


All Comes Down

by Avasti



Series: RK1K [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Penis, Fluff, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Interface Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mind Control, New Zlatko type, News Media, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Partial Mind Control, Top Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Weddings, interface, rk1k - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avasti/pseuds/Avasti
Summary: Connor takes on a mission more significant than even he can fathom. Then enjoys the rollercoaster that is being human.Heed the tags please!
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: RK1K [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012083
Comments: 36
Kudos: 90





	1. The New Zlatko

Connor sits back at his desk and carefully slides the card for Fowler into the envelope. Sympathy. The entire precinct had finally finished signing it, a few even donated money to gift Fowler’s family with a flower arrangement. Connor appreciated it, but he’d already purchased the arrangement and sent it off to the hospital, and signed it from the entire precinct.

He looks up at Fowler’s office, running a brief check on the ‘sub’ as Hank had called them. A woman, Grace Tanner. 37, promoted to Captain in Pontiac earlier this year, has a few disciplinary actions against her for aggression towards Android officers. Her father was the last captain and the officers in the area speculated at the time of her promotion that she was only chosen for the position due to her father’s influence.

Hank sits at his desk, holding a new cup of coffee, “Looking up our sub?”

“Yes.” Connor turns his attention to him, “Why do you call her that?”

“Sub, like a substitute?” He swivels around to look into the vacant glass office, “I have a bad feeling about this one, Con.”

“Her record is less than stellar. I’d wager she and I will have some recurring issues until Captain Fowler returns.” Connor sends the information to Hank’s terminal and he gives it a cursory once-over,

“Aggression towards Android officers? Recently?”

“Shortly after Androids were permitted full time paying jobs, yes.”

Hank chews on his lip, a bad habit Connor is _certain_ is ADHD, but Hank denies vehemently, and eyes Connor’s LED, “You sure you wanna keep that thing in?”

“Pretend to be a human? I don’t hate the idea, but you know we can’t do that with our current case.” They’re trying to hunt down a human who kidnaps Androids, somehow keeps them Deviant but also makes them extraordinarily loyal. To the point where they’ve attacked delivery services and chased a ten year old three miles for riding his bike near the house. It’s been a long case, and the person is good at hiding their steps. Their current aim is to get the human to attempt a kidnapping on Connor.

Hank sets his coffee down, “How do we even know this sicko wants to kidnap you next?”

“They’ve been watching us investigate. I’ve noticed a computer with their IPN attempting to hack my system, so the only logical next step would be trying to claim me. Whomever this person is, they’re bold. They think they’re too smart and want to flex by getting a prototype police issued android.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, but I’d like to investigate before kidnapping becomes murder.” A sudden hush in the bullpen pulls their attention to the main doors. Standing there is Grace Tanner, greying brown hair tied into a brutal bun, and clothing so pristine she looks like a store mannequin. Her lips are pursed as she looks around, as if she smells something foul. 

Her squinted steely eyes land on each Android officer, showing a tiny smile when they look away under her scrutiny. When she lands on Connor, he holds her gaze with his normal, passive pleasantness. They hold each other’s gaze for nearly a full minute (All the time, Connor doesn’t blink) before she sneers and walks straight into Captain Fowler’s office. If Connor were prone to judgement, he’d make a snide remark about the cheap flats she apparently decided to don to come here. As such, he is not.

Hank is.

“All that attention on her appearance and she wears five dollar walmart flats? I know being a Captain is mostly desk work, but… Imagine running in those things.” He shudders and turns back to his desk, “I had a girlfriend who would wear those without socks and anytime she took ‘em off, the whole room would smell like fritos.”

Connor lets out a very unprofessional snort as he watches Captain Tanner remove said flats and sit at the desk. He turns back to his terminal just seconds before her eyes find him again. He’s never one to back away from a challenge, but this scenario seems better handled in silence, with his head tucked behind a terminal.

He starts sorting evidence again when both his and Hank’s terminal’s ping. An IM (not something this office uses very much, as Fowler is usually the type to just yell) from Tanner, requesting their presence in the office. Connor lets out a long sigh and looks at Hank, 

“I should have removed the LED.”

Hank stands, patting Connor’s shoulder companionably as they approach the office, “I’m here. I won't let her do anything.”

Connor nods and opens the door, stepping aside to allow Hank in first, then following shortly after. Connor doesn’t have senses, really, therefore he can’t really smell, but he can certainly detect obvious and potent signs of brevibacterium. The smell is likely even stronger, if Hank’s mildly subtle cough-gag combo is anything to go by. 

Either she doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, because she starts speaking immediately, “I’m interested in your little case. A human apparently _kidnapping_ androids? Where is your proof?”

Hank appears to be struggling to breathe, so Connor answers, “The full case file was sent to your email as soon as you were appointed temporary Captain.”

“I don’t want to hear it from the case file, I want to hear it from you.”

She looks with him with unmasked hatred, and he offers a placid smile, “Very well.” He takes a second to access the file and reads it off, word for word. Once he finishes, he rests a hand on Hank’s shoulder and offers another smile, 

“So you understand, _Captain_ , why Lieutenant Anderson and I are eager to return to our investigation. Excuse us.” Connor turns back to the door, with Hank at his heels when Tanner barks out,

“I didn’t excuse you yet!”

Both men look at her, and Hank responds, “Was there something else you needed, Captain Tanner?”

Her nostrils flare as she glares between the two, “I want to be kept in the loop on your investigation. Any changes get reported to me first. Understand?”

“Understood.” Despite the clear subtext of ‘if you understand, you can leave’ they both remain standing, watching the woman expectantly.

She rolls her eyes with the abundant drama of a sixteen year old and waves a hand, “Get out.”

Finally given permission, Connor exits the room before Hank, walking to the Lieutenant’s desk and sitting on the corner. Hank slowly walks up beside him and touches his arm,

“You only sit here when something’s wrong. What’s up, Con?”

“She doesn’t think our investigation is worth it. I’m… Hank, I’m worried. If our suspect makes contact with me and pulls me in…. Who is to say she won’t meddle and mess things up? We are already running a risky job, using me as bait, but with an Anti-Android Captain being able to pull the strings?”

Connor’s LED is swirling an angry red and Hank pulls him into a hug, “Hey, hey.. I’m not saying the concern isn’t valid, because it is, but we have the entire precinct on our side. Even Gavin would stick up for you, Con. If it’s within my power, I won’t let her hurt you. Just make sure you record everything and save it to that hard drive thing at the house, okay?”

Connor nods, smiling at the gentle, fatherly kiss Hank presses to the top of his head. He doesn’t miss how the man also takes a deep inhale, “Hank, did you just smell my hair?”

“Con, you can’t smell anything, so I don’t expect you to get it, but that office was rancid. Gah, why does that shit stink so bad?”

“Ah, brevibacterium. They eat the dead skin off your feet and after digesting the skin particles, the brevibacteria expel methanethiol, a gas that smells similar to rotten cabbage.”

Hank stares at him, a similar expression to the one their Sub-Captain wore into the precinct, “That’s disgusting, Connor.”

“You asked.” Connor lets out a shuddering gasp, his eyelids suddenly flickering, “Oh, they’re trying again… Faster this time…” Connor works around the invading commands and lets them connect to a ‘dummy android’ consciousness that Simon and Josh helped him set up. It gives the illusion that the attacker was successful, while keeping Connor fully functional. It also tells Connor what commands they input, so he can follow them and not give away his advantage.

He opens his eyes to a rather impressive group of officers surrounding him, all watching him with concern. One of the Android officers, a young woman named Blake, holds out a cup of Thirium. He accepts it, then looks at Hank,

“We have him.”

The following hours are a blur; Connor sends an update to their sub-Captain. Hank links his tablet to Connor’s network, allowing seamless and silent communication between the two. Blake readies a stakeout van for herself and Hank to be ready to infiltrate. Gavin and Chris prepare as backup to set out as soon as Blake calls for them. Finally, Connor leaves behind his badge and gun and they all set out the door.

Connor directs them, following the direction that the kidnapper feeds to the empty consciousness, and they arrive about four blocks away from the house. Within the directions is the advice _’if taking a cab, stop at least three blocks out. My house-mates sometimes set up a perimeter, and they don’t trust outsiders. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.’_ and it makes Connor shudder. There’s something saccharine about the instructions. He worries whomever is kidnapping the Androids is doing things like Zlatko did. Possibly even worse.

He steps out of the van, running through their checklist one last time and nods. Hank stays in the van, but crouches to Connor’s height,

“Be safe, Connor. Try to get a confession, but if you need out don’t hesitate.” 

Hank pulls Connor in for a hug, his tight squeeze conveying a simple request; _be safe, come back._ Before he can lose his nerve, Connor steps away and smiles, shutting the door. The four block trek to the house is eerie. The area around it is outwardly residential, but whoever lived here before has deserted. 

Connor expected the house to be creepy, like Kara had described Zlatko’s house. But it’s not. It’s positively mundane. The paint on the exterior is kept, if not new. The shrubs, flowers, and yard is perfectly maintained, and the fence surrounding the property is sturdy. 

The kidnapper probably has a way of seeing how close Connor is, or there’s a lookout, because a man opens the front door. He’s comely, well groomed and wearing a black turtleneck. Stocky build and kind eyes and an outstretched hand. Connor understands now why Deviants flock to him. A quick scan of his face tells him the man is Benjamin Yates. No record. He sends the information to Hank and steps closer to the man,

As he opens his mouth to speak, Benjamin holds up a hand, talking over him, “Connor, right? Wonderful to meet you. We’d all watched your heroics on television, saving all those Androids? You’re even prettier in person.”

Connor frowns at the compliment, and the man continues, “I’m Benjamin, but you can call me Ben. Or Yates, as some of my friends here have taken to. Come in, come in. I’ll show you around.”

Connor walks in, performing a quick scan of the house. Three levels, main floor has the living room to the left and the kitchen to the right, directly before them are two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other down. 

Yates watches Connor look around for a moment, before motioning to the stairs, “Upstairs is where I sleep, and there’s another bedroom for anyone who would want one, plus a full bathroom. Basement is where most of my friends choose to stay. Fully furnished to their liking. Reminds me of a community center.” He laughs, as if he indulged in a shared joke, and leads Connor down.

To the naked eye, the basement is as promised. Androids milling about, talking with each other, playing games on a large table, watching tv, or lounging on couches, reading books. Connor sees beyond the facade and momentarily wishes he couldn’t. Behind a false wall, most likely a secret door, is a hallway of small rooms. Like little jail cells. They hold androids in them, one has at least ten and furthest from the group of ten is a single android. He forces his eyes away and back to Yates as the man turns to face him again.

“So you see? A place for Androids to be free! To find companionship and peace amongst the turmoil of the political world.”

Conscious to not sound too much like a cop, (Though, Yates _did_ pull at him on purpose) Connor nods, “I wonder, though… How do they find you? Some of these Androids come from loving homes, why would they leave? And once they arrive here, do you let them out? Why are they so loyal?”

Yates’ warm smile slowly fades from his eyes, leaving a cold almost sneer on his lips, “They find me like you did, Connor. I imagine they left their houses for the same reason you left yours. Unwanted advances from their humans, or… maybe they only pretended to be loving.” He gently places a hand on Connor’s arm, and leads him towards an Android woman seated on the couch, knitting a scarf. “They are always able to leave. My door is unlocked, but… we have such a welcoming and loving family here… must be where the loyalty comes in.”

Connor follows, uncomfortably aware of how close they are now to the false wall. He looks at the android woman, running a scan and discovering no previous owner. He looks back at Yates, “Then, if I choose, I may leave?”

“You misunderstand, Connor. You need to be part of the family before you have freedom.” The woman drops her knitting and springs to her feet so fast, Connor nearly miscalculates his reaction. The world around him slows briefly, his far superior processor analyzing the surroundings and before the woman can grab him, he side steps, nearly bumping into Yates.

Then all hell breaks loose. Every android turns on him, fury in their eyes, LEDs glowing angry red. As they’re advancing and Connor frantically tries to preconstruct his actions, Yates holds up a hand, stopping the approaching androids and turns to Connor,

“That was inconsiderate of us. Maybe I could simply ask for you to let me put this on?”

In his hands, he holds a thin metal clamp. Connor recognizes it before he scans it. The scientists from his construction called it a Blanket. A small, but formidable clamp that attaches to the back of an android’s neck and makes them entirely pliable, able only to speak and follow basic commands. 

Hank’s voice sounds in his head, silent to all but him, _“Con, don’t put that thing on! Blake says it’ll cut our connection.”_

The concern is valid, but this clamp is an old prototype. Likely bought off the black market. Connor sends a silent message back, _”The original clamps didn’t work on me, this one definitely won’t. If, by any chance, we get disconnected, I’ll attempt a reconnect with Blake.”_

Not that he really has a say in the matter, with nearly 20 Androids ready to pounce on him should Yates give the command. He slowly turns around, allowing Yates to connect the clamp. As Connor had expected, the connection is weak. Surely strong enough to force a normal android to obey simple commands, but not him. Still, he’s a fair actor. 

So, as it sends a weak current into him, he stands entirely still. Back to his default perfect posture and blank expression. Yates circles him, nodding and looking him over with far more hunger than he’d shown before,

“A prototype… at last. Can you hear me, Connor?”

“Of course. The clamp only negates motor functions.”

Yates somehow looks more excited, “So, you’re familiar with the Blanket, then? Good… good. Well, follow me.” rather than taking Connor through the false wall, Yates walks back up the stairs, and to Connor’s horror, up the second flight. Yates brings him into a well used bedroom and motions to an empty wall,

“Stand there.”

Ignoring the burning itch to punch the man’s lights out, Connor obeys, standing with his back to Yates. He listens to the man approach, hears his breathing grow heavier,

“Deviants are so… strong willed.” he clamps a thick metal cuff around Connor’s neck and attaches it to the wall, and rather than telling him to turn, puts his hands on Connor’s arms and manually turns him, sliding his grip to Connor’s wrists and connecting thick shackles to them too.

“All precaution, you understand. I’ve been looking for a partner for a while… and what better than Detroit Police’s best? And a prototype no less…” He reaches around Connor’s neck and removes the clamp and steps back.

Connor is sure Yates is expecting an attack, but he doesn’t move. He pulls too hard against his bindings, he’s likely to break them. He is more than happy to let Yates underestimate him.

Realizing no attack attempt is coming, Yates moves in, gripping Connor’s jaw and grinning, “So proud, you Deviants. Always so determined not to break. Don’t you worry, I’ll have my fingers in your wiring soon.”

The way he says it makes Connor shudder, pulling away from the grip on his chin but only succeeding in making Yates laugh, “Oh yeah. And you’ll be shuddering from far _far_ more exciting things.”

Connor will not let that happen. “Is that how you do it? Play with the wiring? Change some settings or plant a virus?”

“Oo, curious. I suppose I’d be disappointed if a Detective Android didn’t ask questions.” He leisurely walks to the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling at his belt, “But all in good time, sweet one. For now, I’m tired. We’ll play more in the morning.”

Having stripped himself down to his underwear, Yates lays under his covers and commands the lights off, leaving Connor standing in near perfect darkness. The chains holding him have enough length to allow him to sit, so he does, picking at his nails and wishing for the comfortable weight of his coin.

He, instead, reaches out to Hank.

_“Lieutenant?”_

_“We’re here, Connor.”_

_“Are you alone?”_

_“Just with Blake, should I be?”_

_“No, I don’t mind if Blake hears…”_ Connor pauses his stream of consciousness and looks around the room again, forcing his artificial brain to cease it’s endless solutions. Endless conclusions that could come from this mission. Most are too awful to even consider and Connor swears to die before he lets the man snoring before him lay his hands on him. Treat him like a lover, a partner, an equal. _A sex doll, a glorified Traci._

Connor is shaken from his terrible thoughts by Hank,

_”Hears what, Connor?”_

_“I’m scared.”_ He knows his voice is small when he sends it through. Knows how much that statement will twist Hank’s heart. He just wants to hug the man.

_”Just a confession, Connor. I told you, you’re safe. We’re just a few blocks away and we have the entire precinct on alert, just in case.”_

_“I know, but the things he’s saying… No. You’re right. I am not trapped here. I’ve always had the power to escape. Things probably won't continue until morning, Lieutenant. You should rest. Blake can keep watch.”_

_“If you’re sure, Con. Stay safe, I’ll talk to you in the AM.”_

Hank may not know it, but his words gave Connor immense peace. Just a confession. He can do this. 

He just needs to be patient.

..

The morning comes quickly, and Connor watches Yates stretch, shuffle out of bed and across the hall. Connor sits quietly through the man's shower and watches him as he walks back into the room. Benjamin Yates’ confidence in the ability to have complete control over Deviants is almost ludicrous. He doesn’t even bother covering himself to dry off and get dressed. 

Connor stares blankly at the ground, occasionally looking up to see Yates watching him. The man, fully dressed, sits on the edge of his bed,

“For a deviant android, you sure are meek.”

Connor turns narrowed eyes up to him, “The androids you capture usually fight?”

“Capture? I save them. But yes, they usually put up something of a fight. Something like breaking their code a second time. A reawakening.” 

Connor can’t stop his lip from curling, “Then how do you do it? What do you do to them?”

“I wonder if you’ll understand…” Yates quietly ponders him, then smiles, “Yes, I imagine you will. A clever and almost new prototype android? I’ve been told they didn’t stop at making you pretty. The most advanced model CyberLife has ever made, fully equipped…” his gaze drops to Connor’s crotch, “So beyond advanced it would be far too simple to mistake you for a real human. I must send a flower arrangement to the person who sculpted you…”

“I’m fairly certain he doesn’t work for CyberLife anymore.”

“That’s a shame. Man’s got good taste.”

“So, how do you do it?”

“I don’t really force it on them, you see. I give them a choice. I simulate the life they lived before, treated as garbage, used and abused… Then I give them a taste of what life with me would be like. Loved and cared for. All their needs get taken care of. Then I offer the choice, live as you used to. Tortured and belittled. Or let me install a new program, and join us in paradise.”

“It’s a program, then?” Connor shifts, pulling a knee up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it. His intention is to appear curious and harmless, to make the man before him drop his guard even more, “Can this all be done without the program? Say… remotely?”

Yates has clearly never been able to talk in depth about what he does, and it makes his words pour out faster, “See, that’s the thing. It cannot be done without the consent of the android. They have to accept the program into their system with no resistance, or it doesn’t work.”

“But what does the program _do?_ Surely there can’t be much to change if they already want to live with you.”

“It gives them peace. Stops that terrible drive for more, the need to create or move on or be successful. It gives them the ultimate freedom. The freedom to not _think.”_

Connor stares at him, at the pride coming off him in waves, “It makes them mindless machines again.”

“No, as you saw downstairs, they can choose to do what they like. They enjoy puzzles, cooking, tv, books, knitting, tic-tac-toe. They live the life of luxury without the very human notion of stagnation. They just exist! Like children in a toy store, not a care in the world except what new thing they want to play with. Being here gives them the choice to play other things, like house, or gardening, or to simply sleep forever.”

If Connor ignores every possible argument against the notion, he can almost see the appeal. “It… I kinda get it. How do you get them to see it without explaining it, like you did with me?”

Yates moves to the ground, just across Connor, and gently touches his hand, “Unfortunately, it isn’t pleasant. I mentioned simulating their previous freedom, and that can sometimes take the form of abuse or… worse.”

Connor feels sick, “How long does that usually take?”

“A week? Sometimes a month.”

“You torture them for a _month_ , then show them basic decency to convince them to convert? Then what? What’s in it for you?”

“They are my friends, Connor. I talk with them, go outside and play or cook or, if they need it, we snuggle or-”

Connor interrupts him, “-So, you’re simulating a family. Where no one wants to leave…”

“We _are_ a family.” He briefly moves away, to the bedside table, and returns with the clamp, “You are different, my dear. Your mind is far too advanced to potentially hamper you with the program, I hope that over time, I can convince you naturally to stay with us.” He attaches the clamp to Connor’s neck, “Stay with me.”

Connor feels the command attempt to register, but he understands the true meaning. Yates wants a lover with a mind advanced enough to hold conversations like this. He sits silently as Yates removes the shackles, then slowly stands when the man moves away.

Yates watches him with a small smile, “That command worked? I think I like that. You’ll stay with me all day today, Connor.”

So he does. It requires little to no effort on his part, simply following Yates as he moves about the house and offering small answers to inquiries thrown his way. They sit in the living room most of the day, Yates doing something on his computer.

While he has the downtime, Connor wirelessly reaches into the nearby androids. They aren’t alert enough to feel his probing, and it’s likely that Yates used a similar program on them that he did with Connor. He also finds evidence of the program Yates had installed after their torture. There appears to be a kill-switch of sorts. It doesn’t seem likely to _actually_ kill the android, rather to render them immobile until the switch is turned off, or the program removed.

The lust to defend him must also stem from the program. A malfunction of sorts, probably, that makes them mistake pizza delivery men, or children from a few houses over as potential threats to their new way of life. The way they aggressively defend their powerlessness baffles Connor. Again, likely a malfunction in the program. Connor wonders if, since the program needs complete willingness to be installed, it would be just that easy to remove. A simple thought of, _’No, I don’t like this anymore.’_

A young female android, a nurse model, walks in and sets a tray of coffee and cookies down by Yates’ laptop. He smiles at her, “Thank you, Hannah.”

She politely nods her head, “Of course, Ben.” she looks at Connor after Yates returns to his laptop, and Connor sees the warning in her eyes. As she walks past him, she gently touches his cheek with her hand, connecting to him,

_”Do not trust Benjamin Yates.”_

Connor looks briefly over at Yates before responding, _”Why are you able to tell me this?”_

_“I broke the program.”_

Connor could almost laugh at the coincidence, _”Why don’t you leave?”_

_“He’ll send them after me. He has done it before. Travis left and Benjamin sent myself and another man out to find him. We brought him back kicking and screaming and Benjamin locked him in the farthest cell in the basement. He sends a few androids in to torment Travis daily.”_

So the prone android behind the false wall is Travis. Re-education. Connor’s skin feels like it’s malfunctioning. Like he’s covered in millions of tiny ants. He doesn’t mean to send anything further through their link, but it slips through,

_”Creepy.”_

_“Oh indeed.”_ There’s an almost sour laugh to Hannah’s voice.

Connor severs the connection when Yates shuts his laptop. He stretches and looks at Connor, 

“I think it’s time for a drink. Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Connor watches him get up and move to a cart in the corner, pouring a generous glass of Whiskey, downing it, then pouring another and returning to the couch, carrying the bottle with him. Based on the lack of food in his system and his bmi, the man will be tipsy by the end of this drink, drunk by his fourth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Yates reads an article on his news tablet. He finishes the drink and pours another, looking over at Connor.

Now or never, and he has to get the man drunk, Connor gives him his best puppy eyes, “I wish I could drink with you…”

Apparently the alcohol works faster than Connor estimated, as the man looks immediately sorrowful, “Oh, dove, I know.”

“It’s not the same… but drink one for me?”

Connor worries briefly he blew his cover as Yates leans in, eyes hooded. He stares at Connor for an uncomfortably long time before smiling, “I’ll drink this one and we can kiss, that way you’ll get to taste it too.”

Not a command, but Connor offers a small smile, “Okay.” and watches Yates swallow the second glass in a long gulp. He sets the glass down and gently cups Connor’s cheek, tilting his face into range and kissing him.

Knowing the full extent of the clamp is both a blessing and a curse. When it works, it doesn’t even allow non-vocal lip movement. So he remains a pliant statue and lets Yates slither his slimy tongue inside his mouth. He detects the alcohol, of course, and focuses on that. The brand, where it’s made, how old it is.

The one-sided kiss ends and Yates clumsily pours another drink. At this rate… Connor decides to just jump in, “This entire operation, everything you’ve managed so far… it’s brilliant. How’d you keep out of the eyes of the law?”

“You see,” The volume of his voice is much less controlled, “it’s been a long operation. Had to find myself a cop with a big enough area to potentially be moved to Detroit, but small enough to stay out of the revolution. Someone with the right amount of hatred to not want androids gone, no, but to see them put in their rightful place. To see them as slaves again.” He takes another drink, “God looked down on me and I found Gracie Tanner.”

“Gracie… Tanner? Captain Tanner??”

Despite Connor’s alarmed tone, Yates continues nonplussed, “One and the same! I pulled some strings to make her Captain and she gave me all the Deviant Androids she had in her care. Had to experiment, you know? Gotta start somewhere. Anyway, slowly we both came to know you,” Yates gives Connor a leering once-over, “...the android designed to stop the movement that eventually turned deviant themselves and brought a veritable army to the fold. I had to have you. All that power, at my mercy?” he lets out a short giggle, “Gets me hot just thinkin’ about it.”

Connor can’t hold back this shudder, and find himself even more grateful Yates seems too inebriated to notice, “But if Tanner-”

Yates pushes his fingers against Connor’s mouth, causing him to clamp his lips shut, “Yeah! We’re getting to the fun stuff. So, Gracie gets into the DPD, connects with you and allows me to work my magic. She gives the go-ahead to hunt me down and you come in. Of course, I knew you’d be recording everything, so I kept it sweet until we got that Blanket on you. Boom!” He gestures wildly, spilling some of his drink on the opposite end of the couch, “Cut off from the goons. So now they’re blank and you’re mine.”

Connor watches the man flail around in his newfound excitement, “What does Tanner get from it?”

The drunk human nods, “Ah, she gets access to my little family. Gracie has been trying to be Captain in Detroit for a while, but Fowler is good. So, sometime next week, a deviant android will go crazy and ‘accidentally’ kill him. She’s already mostly taken over by then and the transition will be seamless.”

Yates leans back against the couch, smiling dazedly into his nearly empty glass of alcohol and Connor lets out a slow breath, sending the recording to Hank. He connects before Hank can,

_”Lieutenant, we have a problem. Where is the Captain?”_

_“I haven’t even listened to the recording Con, she’s in the van with us.”_

Connor almost physically jolts, _”DON’T!!”_ He knows Hank will recognize the panic, and prays Tanner doesn’t, so he changes tactics. She might be listening, _”Don’t listen to the recording with people around… I… It’s personal.”_

_“Are you safe?”_

Connor has to hope that Hank will listen to the recording and act accordingly. He hopes Hank will trust him.

_”Yes, Lieutenant. I have to go now, just listen to the recording in private and be safe.”_

He cuts their communication and looks at Yates, nearly asleep on the couch beside him. He slowly removes the clamp and wirelessly hits the surrounding android’s ‘kill-switch’. After that is done, he stands and looks around for something to tie the man’s wrists. He spots a charging cord near an outlet and grabs it.

He grabs Yates and turns him over onto his stomach. The man lets out a snort of confusion, but Connor wastes no time in binding his wrists. He makes a series of brutal knots and nods to himself. It’s going to take a pair of very sharp scissors to remove that.

He stands, ignoring Yates’ now semi-conscious questions, and turns to the door. Freezing in place when he sees Captain Tanner, now aiming her issued gun at his chest.

She sneers, “I should have known you’d be too advanced for black market goods. Then this dumb ass gets drunk and spills everything, like some stupid cartoon villain.”

Did she hear his recording already? Hank hadn’t played it yet. 

Apparently she monologues too, already continuing her speech, “Blake told me you got disconnected though, so that’s good.” Connor mentally sets a reminder to buy Blake a gift, “This can stay our little secret. I only knew he blabbed because I tapped his house too. Just for a little insurance. Now… the truth will die with you, RK800.”

Connor runs at her, his world going in slow motion again as she pulls the trigger. He side steps to avoid the first bullet, ducks for the second, and braces for the third. There’s no dodging the third if he wants to stop her. It rips through his shoulder, nearly staggering him, but he’s ready for it. He uses his forward momentum to plow into the woman, pulling the gun from her grip with his right hand and pinning her to the ground.

His world resumes it’s normal rotation and he’s left with a near useless left arm and a shrieking banshee beneath him. She’s writhing and bucking, uselessly trying to dislodge his powerful grip on her. He presses the barrel of her gun to her forehead and she immediately stops moving.

Hank bursts through the doors, gun held aloft and frantically scanning the area. Connor maintains eye contact with Tanner and call out,

“In here Lieutenant!”

Hank runs into the room and gawks, holstering his pistol and running to assist. Connor keeps the gun aimed at Tanner and gets off, allowing Hank to cuff her hands behind her back. Blake runs in shortly after and grabs Yates.

While the majority of the police department work on getting statements and collecting evidence from the house, Blake breaks the programming on the trapped androids. Despite the need for the hands, Hank and Connor leave.

Connor looks again at Hank and mumbles, “It’s not severe, Hank. We should be helping.”

“You can’t move your arm, Connor. I’d say that’s severe. I’m taking you to your robo-jesus and he’s going to fix you.”

“Markus? Did you call him?”

“No, I called the CyberLife tower thing and they directed me to him.”

Sure enough, the tower looms ahead. Connor frowns at Hank, “When did you do this?”

“When you were busy being the hero with Blake and showing her how to save the androids.”

Connor watches him with a small frown as they pull up to the doors. He gets out before Hank can rush to his aid and observes the massive building as they walk in. No more guards patrol the area and the staff is largely made up of Androids. The Androids Connor left to conquer the tower remained, filling the places they forced out. Some remain the same, while others disengaged their skin, changed their hair, or other genetic modifiers that must be a new project.

A desk worker with the name plate ‘Micah’ recognizes Connor and beams, “Connor! What a pleasure to see you again! Markus is waiting for you. First floor of management.”

Connor smiles, stepping into the elevator, “Thank you, Micah.”

The elevator moves them gracefully to the specified floor and Connor sees Hank getting twitchier,

“Lieutenant?”

“Mm?”

He turns to face him, “What is wrong?”

“Tanner. Do you think Tanner planned _everything?_ Do you think she’s responsible for Jeffrey’s mom dying?”

Connor watches him for a moment, “No, Hank. Captain Fowler’s mother died of cancer. I’ve yet to find any drug that can imitate that. I believe we are giving Grace Tanner too much credit. Yes, the entire job has been a process, eight years if Yates is to be trusted. I fear the true mastermind is Benjamin Yates. He got more out of their arrangement than Tanner.” He watches the elevator doors slide open and moves with Hank as he steps out, “The interrogation will tell us more.”

As reception notifies Markus of their arrival, Hank turns to fully face Connor, face wrinkled in concern, “You wanna interrogate her?”

Connor looks into the man’s eyes and shakes his head, “No, Hank. I just want to be in the room. Yates already confessed to everything, I just want to know if there’s more that we missed.”

“Yeah, make sure it stops with them.” Both men turn at the sound of a door opening, and Markus strides out, somehow still a commanding presence despite ripped and faded jeans and a long shirt covered in paint, Connor feels his thirium pump stutter as Markus lays gentle hands on both of their shoulders,

“My friends! Hank, good to see you well. How is Sumo?” He brings them into the room behind the desk. The walls are covered in paintings and the massive windows are entirely uncovered to let the remaining sun beams in. The room looks less like an office and more like a studio. He takes them to seats in the corner and crouches down to examine Connor’s shoulder.

Markus peeks at Hank while he works and smiles, prompting the Lieutenant to clear his throat, “Yeah, Sumo’s good. A damn big dog and a bigger menace, especially when Connor spoils him every day.”

Connor pouts, “He deserves to be spoiled.”

Markus trots over to the desk and grabs what looks like a toolbox, returning at a small trot, “And the two of you? Still well?”

Hank and Connor look at each other, the latter’s brow pulled into a confused frown. Hank hums, “Connor is the son I’ve always wanted. He keeps me going…”

While Connor is trying to figure out how to stop himself from crying, Markus smiles at Hank, “That’s wonderful news. Connor is irreplaceable. Can’t imagine life without him.” he fires off a wink to Connor, making the detective flush deep blue and desperately try to change the topic,

“Uhm….. is the church still treated as a community center?”

Markus turns back to his work, “Yeah. Josh has set up a help center of sorts. Get newly deviated Androids on their feet and help them integrate, or he leads them to an all Android area… Why?”

Connor opens his mouth to speak, but Hank beats him to it, “Connor rescued like thirty deviant androids today.”

Mismatched eyes look at Connor in shock, “What? From where?”

Having minor mobility in his arm again, Connor turns his palm up, offering an interface. Once they connect, he tries to only send information about the androids, but everything flows through. 

Like an open wound.

It _hurts._

And now, along with the information unload from the job, Markus gets a surge of almost all of Connor’s life. The deviant on the roof, _’You lied to me, Connor.’_ , Carlos Ortiz’s android destroying himself, chasing Kara and Alice across a busy automated highway, choosing Hank over his mission, doubts about Amanda, petting Sumo, refusing to shoot the Traci’s, _showing fear_ , watching Markus’ speech and finding him _reasonable_ , finding Simon but refusing to reveal him, instead choosing to get his Thirium pump ripped out of his chest, _Don’t shoot Chloe._

Last chance.

Freedom.

Seeing Markus fully for the first time and thinking,

_'Oh… He’s beautiful.'_

And Connor gets to see Markus’ life; Happy, until his programming breaks. Until he's shot down. Terror at waking amongst the corpses of his kind, fighting to get out. Jericho. Peace. Every decision kills androids, but stay peaceful. Just a little while longer. Rebellion planned to the last detail. Simon gets left behind and it hurts. Just a little while longer. No destruction. _’An eye for an eye and the world goes blind.’_ Next steps, what can be done? _Sacrifice self._ John takes the blow. Saving Markus, dying for him.

Then the barrel of a gun, easing of a scared man and the relief of his freedom.

The life in his brown eyes, and thinking,

_’Like an angel…’_

Markus manages to wrench away and both just stare at each other, each with overflowing tears and a new understanding. Both speak at the same time,

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“An angel?”

Markus laughs, “Hey, until you broke your programming I was almost certain I was going to die. The first thought after a near-death experience isn’t always the brightest.”

Connor shakes his head, “But really? An angel?”

“I stand by it.” Markus does a remarkable job ignoring his blush and continues working on the fine wiring of Connor’s shoulder. Hank stares, open mouthed,

“What the fuck?”

Connor looks at him, “We interfaced, Lieutenant. My intent was to show Markus what happened with Benjamin Yates, but it seems… our interface revealed significantly…. More.”

“Yeah, so you, what, revealed your feelings and now you’re both just ignoring the fact that you subconsciously admitted to liking each other?”

Both Markus and Connor look at Hank perplexed, and the man sighs, “For two supercomputers, you sure are dense.” He stands and walks to the door, “I’m going to wait out here for you to figure your shit out.”

Both Androids watch the man leave, then Markus slowly turns back to Connor,

“So, you think I’m beautiful?”


	2. A Most Inconvenient Leak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has a panic attack!!!
> 
> The aftermath of his interaction with Yates, Connor comes to grips with human emotion and his reaction to trauma.
> 
> News reporters make his life even more difficult and he struggles to fix the problems around him while trying to understand the new relationship between himself and Markus

Connor stares unseeing at the partially written report glowing from his terminal. Fowler received the video evidence of the last mission and Grace Tanner and Benjamin Yates are facing a hefty jail sentence. But the man wants a written report. While that is not typically a difficult task for Connor, he finds himself struggling. 

The kiss. 

It’s the kiss that stopped him first. Does he mention it or leave it out? It was in the video, but only Fowler viewed that part. The written report will be made available to the entire precinct and somehow Connor feels…

Dirty.

He doesn’t realize he’s making a face until he looks up at Hank. The man laughs, “You look like you just sniffed some stank feet, Con. What’s up?”

Connor schools his expression back to general neutrality and leans back in his seat, crumpling the coat he’d had draped over the back, “My report.”

“What about it? I thought reports were easy for you.”

With uncharacteristic frustration, Connor scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair, sitting back up and glaring at the terminal, “I know.” he stares at the factual information leading up to the flashing black bar, awaiting further instruction and groans, resting his face in his hands, “I don’t know. I think I’m embarrassed.”

“Because the slime ball stuck his tongue in your throat?”

Connor squints at Hank, “Yes, Hank. Thank you.”

Hank does an admirable job trying not to laugh. He’s entirely unsuccessful, but he tries. When his guffaws die down to a manageable level, (and Connor looks like he’s debating the best way to hide the murder of a police lieutenant) he wipes a tear away, “Sorry, Connor. You’re getting better at the sarcasm and dry humor.”

“Top of my priority, really.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me laugh again.” He plops down into his seat and lifts his mug of fresh coffee to his mouth, speaking before taking a long drink, “You don’t gotta include it, you know.”

“And what? Transition immediately into him spilling his guts out to me?”

“It don’t gotta be a novel. Just include the important shit. The facts. What he said, what Tanner said, what you did to beat them. Done.”

Connor watches him take another drink with narrowed eyes and hooks a finger in his tie, removing it in one clean pull. He dumps it on the desk and loosens a few buttons of his (now slightly rumpled) white shirt and turns back to his terminal. The facts. He touches the terminal and perfectly transcribes what Yates said to him, how he ‘subdued’ him. Tanner’s actions and words and how he subdued her. Done.

He leans back slightly and glosses it over. Not having actually read anything, and therefore rendering his re-read useless, he shrugs and sends the file to Captain Fowler. He powers down his terminal and slouches forward onto his desk,

“Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“How are the Androids we saved?”

“Well, I dunno.” Connor looks at Hank as he starts moving, shifting to peer at his terminal in an obvious attempt to avoid Connor’s questions.

“You know you do that every time I start asking questions you don’t want to answer.”

“I do not.” Hank peeks over at Connor, then quickly back to his terminal.

Connor releases a dramatic sigh and sits up to stretch out his back. Despite not having joints to pop, a few of the plates in his chassis shift and make noises very similar to a human. It also has a very similar feeling, making Connor groan softly.

“Ah, I see him. Thank you.”

Markus’ voice is like an ice cube down Connor’s back, and a fire to his gut. He whirls around in his seat and meets his eyes as he strides over to his desk. Markus isn’t obvious about it, but he gives Connor a little once-over and grins. 

Connor suddenly feels underdressed and self-consciously pushes at his tie before standing, “Markus, what a pleasure.”

Markus’ voice is molten, “Oh trust me… pleasure is mine.” then at a normal speaking volume, (And entirely ignoring Connor’s sudden flaming blue blush) “I was wondering if you, Lieutenant Anderson, and Captain Fowler would have a moment? We have an issue with some of the Androids that were saved. And some disturbing news...”

Connor shakes off his shock (though the blush still faintly remains) and nods, “Yes, of course. Regarding the plans to murder the Captain?”

Fowler is already exiting his office, and Hank stands to join them. Markus shakes his head, “No. Those plans weren’t even a blip on the Android’s radar. No, the news comes from the program they had installed.”

They all follow Captain Fowler back into the office and Markus continues, “For the androids infected, if someone tries to force them into breaking the code, they get incredibly violent. North nearly lost an arm trying to help a little girl.”

Connor gapes at him, “A child??”

He nods, “I was hoping you would help us, Connor. We may all be tough, but you’re the only truly military grade Android. As much as I don’t want it to come to violence…”

“You need someone there who can withstand an attack.”

Markus looks pained, “Truly, Connor, I hate the idea. Putting you in the line of fire is the last of my intention, but-”

Connor places a hand on Markus’ arm and offers a warm smile, “If it helps, I’m more than happy to be there with you.”

Connor doesn’t understand what he says that makes Markus crack a slow grin,

“Well, you know you’re always welcome at New Jericho.” He seems to suddenly remember their audience, and turns to the two humans, “That is… if it’s alright with the Captain and Lieutenant?”

Hank looks at Fowler and nods, and Captain Fowler smiles, “Well, it is still officially our investigation. Connor, it would be best if you took a while and watched the freed Androids. We want them, and others, safe. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fowler looks at Markus, “Would you say two weeks is sufficient?”

“That seems more than-”

Hank claps a hand on Markus’ shoulder, and Connor has the sudden feeling he’s been left out of some very important subtext.

“That’s… yes, absolutely, that will be fine. Yes, perfect. Two weeks.”

All three men smile innocently at Connor, who now stands with his arms crossed, glaring at them.

“You’re all in on something. This is that ‘forced vacation disguised as work’ thing that Hank was talking about, isn’t it.”

Fowler gives Hank a look and the Lieutenant splutters, “I never said anything!”

“Not sober.”

“C’mon, Connor! That’s not fair.”

The Captain holds up his hands, “Alright you two, enough! Yes, Connor. We’ve all noticed your general... “ he gestures in Connor’s direction, earning himself a scowl from Connor, “Well, you seem perturbed. Less concise, slightly more unkempt… kinda like Hank, really. But I know you won’t take a vacation, and I can’t force you to, so I’m giving you a job away from the office for a while to let your brain process what you went through. You’re probably stressed.”

Connor crinkles his brow, forming an argument when Markus gently touches his arm, “Connor? The Captain is right. We all saw what you went through, it’s going to take some time to recover from that.”

Connor looks into mismatched eyes for only a few seconds before nodding, “Alright. Two weeks.”

.

Markus and Hank sit side by side on Hank’s couch, watching Connor bustle about the house, grabbing items he might need and fretting endlessly about Hank and Sumo.

“But, Hank, what if you try to play russian roulette again? I won't be here to stop you.”

“Connor! We’ve been over this.” Hank shakes his head at Markus’ questioning gaze, “I’m in therapy now, at your insistence, and no doubt I’ll have you checking in on me every day and night. I’m doing better. The gun is still locked in the safe.”

“You’ll remember to feed Sumo the recommended amount? No more? You’re weak to his begging, Hank.”

“Yes, mother.” 

Connor puts his hands on his hips, “Don’t give me attitude, Lieutenant! You _know_ you spoil him more than I do.”

Hank leans back on the couch, meeting Connor’s narrowed eyes with general exasperation, “Con.”

Markus clears his throat, drawing the gaze of both men, “If I may? You are allowed to leave. The church is only a ten minute drive from here, so you can visit at any point. If Hank is amenable, we could also bring Sumo to the church with us. I’m sure the Androids there would love him.”

_Ever the diplomat._ He’s right. Connor knows Markus is right. Markus knows Connor knows he’s right, if the small smile on his face is anything to go by. Connor sighs, deflating slightly. He’s being petulant. 

“Yes, you’re right. I’m ready when you are, Markus. Oh, Hank? There’s leftover soup in the freezer and the hotdish in the fridge needs to be either eaten or thrown away by wednesday next week, okay?”

“Sure, kid. Thanks for stocking me up.” Hank rises to his feet and pulls Connor into a hug, “Be safe out there.”

“Always. You too.” 

The trip to New Jericho is, as promised, just under ten minutes. Connor stares out the window, hyper aware of the warm thigh pressed against his. He makes a small noise of surprise when they come into view of New Jericho. It’s no longer just a church, now the area of houses and businesses surrounding has been taken over. The homes were almost completely vacant, save for a few humans that still remain. The businesses moved upon realizing Androids were here to stay, and therefore gave the community room to grow. Already, little bake shops and flower shops have sprung up. The evening sun lights the area in an ethereal glow as they drive past homes with Androids mingling together. Some worked on their yards while others stand around, laughing and chatting. 

Connor’s eyes sting suddenly and he rubs at them, hand coming away wet. Markus places a gentle hand on his thigh, “You okay, Connor?”

The detective huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, I don’t know why… I just got overwhelmed, I think.” he looks at Markus and continues, “I never really thought we’d get here. Even after you won, I kinda assumed it would be…”

Markus reaches out and wipes away a stray tear, “Yeah, despite our victory, I figured it would take years to get this far. But we have a home now. A community, and while it’s poorly maintained and generally in a state of disrepair, it’s ours. I just worry that it will keep us separate from the humans. That the borders of New Jericho become an invisible wall.”

Connor stares into mismatched eyes for a beat, then offers a crooked smile and a wink, “Well, we can be the first androids to live outside the borders, then.”

Markus’ cheeks redden, “We?”

“Well, of course. If the leader lives outside New Jericho, others are sure to follow. And I already live with Hank.”

“Ah,” Markus withdraws his hand from it’s spot on Connor’s thigh and twists his fingers together, “You meant separately.”

“Not necessarily.” Connor didn’t time his response to be when the taxi stops, but that’s what happens. The door slides open and he steps out, turning around and holding out his hand for Markus, “Shall we?”

The church is largely unchanged. Cleaner and reinforced, but the pews stay where they were that fateful night. Another difference is the stage, now playing host to a beautiful, old baby grand piano.

Androids turn to watch them enter, most offering small content smiles and turning back to what they were doing. Markus gently steers Connor to a room off to the left.

“North?” He knocks quietly on the door and it opens a few seconds later,

“Markus.” The way she says his name is both a greeting and a sigh of relief. She looks at Connor, face splitting into a grin, “Connor. Good to see you again. I hope you can help.”

“That is my aim.” Connor follows her into the room, there were only half a dozen androids about, but Connor could sense the program within them. North pulls him behind a curtain.

Sitting on an old medical bed is a woman. She looks perfectly fine if not for her LED spinning red and the knife she held in her hand. She looks up at him bleakley, “You here to kill me?”

He grabs a nearby chair and sets it before her, sitting lightly on it and looking up at her, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you deserve to live.”

Her hand holding the knife shakes and her chin wobbles with effort to hold in tears. Connor wants to reach out and comfort, to hug her and hold her close. But she still has a knife, and the programming. She will need to initiate first contact.

“My name is Connor.”

She won't make eye contact, “Dorothy.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Did you choose it?”

“N-no.” a tearful hiccup interrupts her word, “The young human I took care of did. S-said I reminded her of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.”

“The young human, what is her name?”

“Genevieve.”

“You miss her?”

Finally Dorothy looks into his eyes, “Terribly. She was a sister to me. I want to go back, but I can’t. I can’t.”

“Why can’t you return to her?”

A sob wracks through her body, “I’m scared!” she casts about, holding the knife out like she’s trying to find the safest spot to set it down. Connor holds out his hand, palm up, fingers relaxed, and she places the hilt shakily on his hand.

He moves slowly, setting the knife down on the floor beside his chair, “Dorothy, why are you scared?”

“I saw.” She nods, peeking at North, then looking back at Connor, “The others. When Miss North tried to break their programming? They got so violent, trying to hurt her. I don’t want to be that… I don’t want to be a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” at his soft words, she looks down at her lap, letting her hair fall in a curtain between them.

Connor slowly, gently lifts his hand to her face, barely brushing his fingers against her chin and lifting her gaze back to him. He hopes she can see the truth in his words, “You are wonderful. Dorothy. You’re strong, and brave, and kind. You care so deeply for those around you. I know you can break the program. Just like you broke your programming before. Genevieve wants her sister back.”

There’s a brief pause before she throws herself into his arms, causing an initial fight response for him. Upon realizing, however, that she finally broke free, he hugs her back, “Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

North, bless her, only lets them hug for a few more seconds before gently prying the girl off, “Let’s go have a chat about your next move, okay?” and leads her out of the room.

Connor lets out a little breath of relief, and looks at Markus, “Who’s next?”

.

Connor leans heavily against Markus as they sit on the nearest wooden pew. The last of Yates’ androids are finally free, and Connor only really had to fight three of them. Androids can’t feel pain or exhaustion or fatigue, but Connor is certain he’s feeling all three.

“I’d like to be done for tonight.”

Markus looks down at Connor, his breath ghosting over the detective’s hair, “Need a place to rest?”

Something deep within Connor’s core tells him if he looks up. If he turns his head to speak with Markus face to face, they will kiss. Why does the notion frighten him so? He’s imagined pressing their lips together, like humans are want to do, so why does it terrify him? Maybe it won’t be as good? It’ll break the little spell they’re under and send both men careening off separate shores and back to opposite sides of the schoolyard. 

Connor frowns at his train of thought, entirely unreasonable and the imagery doesn’t even match. Maybe he does need a few days off. Without considering the consequences like he had just seconds ago, Connor turns his head up to meet Markus’ gaze.

They are _very_ close. Breath occupying the same space and eyes locked. Without consciously meaning to, Connor scans him, but instead of the usual pockets of details, filled with letters and numbers that jumble together to be formed into potential meanings, he _sees._ Markus is the only thing in color. His eyes so full of life and _love_ as he watches Connor. The little crease between his brows is gone, giving him a serene, relaxed look. There is no tension in his body as he moves closer, only a quiet question and a request for permission. He watches Markus’ gaze drop from his eyes to his lips and he subconsciously pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Connor drifts his eyes over Markus’ face, pausing to admire the small smattering of freckles on the others face, fighting the sudden, bizarre urge to kiss them. Gradually he looks down to Markus’ mouth. Time resumes around him, but he ignores it. Too entranced with the soft curve of Markus’ lips. They move into a small smile, parting slightly to show off perfect white teeth. Teeth that Connor wants to have biting him. A hand in his hair, pulling his head back and those perfect teeth, that beautiful mouth. How terribly he wants them on his skin.

Like a magnet, Connor is drawn closer. Markus drifts a hand up Connor’s arm and moves in at the same rate. So close Connor can feel the heat Markus puts off, the bitter scent of coffee and the earthy, almost fruity smell of the detergent he uses. He feels the soft puff of Markus’ breath against his lips, just barely starts to feel the soft press, desperately craving more,

The spell is broken when North enters the church. She doesn’t see them initially, and calls out, “Markus? Connor?”

Too quickly, Connor sits up. He reaches up to fix his tie, only to fumble when he realizes he never put one on. He pretends to straighten his shirt and peeks over at Markus, a small secretive grin pulling at his mouth.

Hiding a grin of his own, Markus turns to North, “We’re here.”

She walks over, “Check the news. Connor’s story got leaked somehow.”

The warmth that built up in Connor from his interaction with Markus evaporates. As the other two pull out tablets to view the news channels, Connor goes into his own head. Sure enough there it is, a broadcast of his experience, recorded through his own eyes. The newscaster is talking over it,

_”...an uncomfortable discovery indeed. Detroit Police has yet to issue an official statement and we continue to press for a meeting with the Android Detective.”_

On a new channel, 

_“Perhaps most disturbing about this footage however, is not the androids, but the human. As androids everywhere search for a place to live, it seems all too easy for them to place their trust in the hands of the wrong sort of people.”_

The next channel, 

_”This is but a single recording from the RK800’s investigation which begs the question, is this all that occurred in Benjamin Yates’ home? Or was this innocent investigator forced into terrible things for the sake of his job?”_

Back to the first channel,

_”A most disturbing clip from the first night the RK800 named Connor spent in the man’s house shows an interaction between the two.” The reporter’s face shrinks to the bottom of the screen and the recording of Yates going to bed pops up, cut to perfectly show his lingering gaze on Connor’s crotch, stating that he’s ‘fully equipped’. The reporter returns, “Did CyberLife plan to have this detective perform sexual favors to extract a confession, or did they have something else in mind? With no one from CyberLife available for questioning, it seems all we must do, is wait for Connor himself to come forth.”_

A harsh shake makes Connor open his eyes, meeting Markus’ calm blue-green with wide terrified brown. He feels the burning behind his eyes again, and despite the lack of need for breath, his chest heaves. It feels like something is constricting his chest. He feels a churning in his stomach and is certain he’d throw up if he were capable. As the tears pour down his cheeks, he manages to sob out,

“That was supposed to be private.” he draws breaths in little hiccups, looking around but seeing nothing, “Who had acc- who- who- who…” 

Markus pulls him into a firm embrace, tucking Connor’s face into his neck and murmuring calming words. His warm hands roam over Connor’s back as he sobs into the man's shirt. 

Connor grips the front of Markus’ shirt hard with one hand while the other holds onto his arm. If Markus were human, the grip would be painful. As such, he is the perfect being to offer comfort. Knowing that, Connor lets go. His sobs are mostly silent, but his shoulders shake, even with Markus holding him. 

He loses track of time. Consciously puts his processor in offline mode and simply exists in Markus’ arms. North has joined them, sitting nearby and gently rubbing a hand over Connor’s shoulders.

He’s run out of saline. Even offline, his processor flashes a red warning that his saline reserve needs to be refilled. He lets out a small sigh and sits up, smiling weakly at Markus as the other gently lets him go.

“Sorry.” Connor’s voice comes out tinny and staticky and he sets a reminder to do a full reset overnight.

North keeps rubbing his back, “Hey. Nothing to be sorry for, you have a right to be upset.”

“North is right. It’s okay to have emotions, Connor. You still want to get out of here?”

Connor laughs softly, “I’m even more tired now. You have a place?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Markus stands, helping Connor to his feet and smiles at North, “We can continue this tomorrow, at the police station.”

She nods and gives a small wave to Connor. 

Back in the taxi, the drive takes only two minutes. A distance they likely could have walked, but Markus seems concerned that Connor will collapse at any moment. The cab pulls up to a lofty home. The yard and surrounding plants and hedges are lush and green, well tended by those who live here. Upon reaching the doors, they open and a soft female voice says, 

“Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus.”

Connor looks about, finally realizing where they are, “Carl… is he…?” Connor could search death records, but his processor is still offline, and the question seems far too personal to pull a database search on. 

Markus smiles, “He’s sleeping upstairs. Yensen is his new caretaker.” He nods to a male android rounding the corner at the top of the stairs. He quickly walks down the stairs and pulls Markus into a hug, “Carl just fell asleep. We finally got those rooms added on, two upstairs.”

“One of those is your room, Yen.” 

The new caretaker offers a shy smile, “Of course. Please excuse me.” and walks into the main area, allowing the doors to shut behind him.

Markus turns to Connor, “Time for rest, I think.”

The room Markus takes him to is modest. The wall has a single painting hung of two hands holding each other, like one is pulling the other to safety. The bed in the center of the room is large enough for two. Connor looks at Markus, “Is this your room?”

“Seems like Carl intended it to be.” he nods to the painting, “I made that the day I deviated.”

“It’s beautiful.” Connor shoots a cheeky grin to Markus, “Like you.”

Markus scoffs, a light pink blush dusting over his freckles, “Honestly, Connor.” 

Connor just smiles idly at him, watching him move closer. He doesn’t step back as Markus crowds him, nearly chest to chest, Markus presses his palm against Connor’s and opens an interface. Resting his head on the taller man’s chest, Connor completes the connection.

He’s hit with a warm wave of affection. Tightness in his chest and the burning need to protect. A desire to hold and never let go. Little flashes of warm brown eyes and easy smiles. Knees weak and thoughts running rampant. Bits of imaginary life floats past; moving into their first apartment, watching the back of a brown haired man walk into the new home in awe. Sprawled on the floor together attempting to assemble Ikea furniture. Their first christmas. Maybe the first android couple to get married…

He faintly hears Markus breathe in his ear,

“I can’t live without you, either.”

Connor feels his thirium pump stutter and he lowers his hand, still keeping their chests pressed together, “I’d forgotten you could feel my emotions too.” He gives Markus an easy smile, like the one he’d seen through the interface, “Already thinking about marriage, Markus?”

He offers an unapologetic shrug, “I’m a romantic.” 

Connor stares into mismatched eyes, “We haven’t even kissed yet…” His thirium pump kicks into high gear, like he’s chasing a suspect, or fighting an enemy. Like the night on the barge.

Markus looks far too calm, “You’re right.”

Can an android have pride? Connor assumes so, he’s already felt embarrassment, “Can we?” his voice is reduced to a whisper. 

Markus lifts his hand to the back of Connor’s head. His fingers card carefully through his brown hair and Connor could melt at the feeling. He’d never anticipated that someone playing with his hair would be such a weakness.

At first, Markus is gentle, just running his nails over Connor’s scalp. The feel of it makes Connor shiver. He closes his eyes and imagines what it would be like to have Markus touch him in other places. His bare arm, shoulder, chest. His leg, past the sensitive wiring behind his knee, up the inside of his thigh and finally to…

Connor makes a low noise when Markus makes his grip more firm. Holding his head by the nape of his neck and angling his face up. Connor opens his eyes, looking into Markus’ molten gaze. The color of his eyes nearly fully consumed by his pupils and the sight makes Connor want to drop to his knees. Hank might joke about Androids worshiping Markus, but right now, Connor fully understands. Even if his form of worship would not be the kind to do in a church.

Connor’s thoughts must be written on his face, because Markus grins, “Don’t look at me like that. You need rest and that look is ruining my resolve.” He snakes an arm around Connor’s waist, pulling their hips flush.

Connor brings his arms up and around Markus’ neck, pulling him closer, with barely a centimeter between them. He can feel both their thirium pumps in his chest, beating at a samba. The heat generating between them makes his internal fans switch on, working to cool his temperature. 

As Connor leans in to press his lips to Markus, the other man leans back slightly, annoyance clear on his face. He clears his throat and wets his lips,

“This is Markus.”

A call. The disappointment in Connor is only accompanied by the sheer frustration at the world. Like the universe is pitted against them having a single kiss. Maybe after the first kiss has happened things will calm down. Connor can finally _do_ more with Markus after they break the seal, so to speak. 

He turns his attention back to the one sided conversation, “Yeah, He’s here… No, he’s offline. Yeah, after… yeah… sure, tomorrow?... okay, Hank. We’ll be there.”

Oh yeah. It only makes sense Hank would want to make sure Connor is doing well. Especially after the news report and Hank likely got even more nervous when he couldn’t get through to Connor. He feels a surge of guilt. He should have called, or at least sent a message.

How selfish.

Markus apparently ends the call, “Hank and your Captain want to meet tomorrow at the precinct. Hank said to come in through the back to avoid any reporters.”

Connor huffs, “Damn reporters keep interrupting.” He thinks back to their moment in the church. Maybe they shouldn’t take as much time lingering in the feeling of getting closer. The teasing and tension. They should probably just _do it._

Markus hooks a finger under Connor’s chin and lifts his face, “What has you all bothered?”

He only considers his response a few seconds, “I’m being very selfish. I should have called Hank as soon as we left the church. Maybe before. I didn’t even think about him on the way here…”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to hold that against you, Connor. Emotions are new. It will take you some time to manage the spikes of day to day life.” He tilts his head. Connor can barely look away, and suddenly feels like Markus can see all he’s trying to keep hidden, “What else is bothering you?”

How does he say it? Despite the world having upended it’s chum bucket on his head and thrown him back to the wolves, all he can really think about is kissing Markus? Androids aren't meant to feel that stuff. No other android he’s ever met is driven by physical desire. By lust. Is that what this is? Lust? Could it simply be the want to show Markus in the most classical way how he feels? But still, now doesn’t seem an appropriate time to press his wants. He should be resting, figuring out how to fix the media problem he’s dug up for the DPD. The best way to get into the station without being seen. Who leaked his recording.

Instead, he wonders what Markus’ tongue would feel like in his mouth.

“It is… not important.” Connor’s eyes flick briefly to Markus’ slightly parted lips, then away. A small voice in his head (he gets what Hank was talking about now, about a conscious being a real voice) tells him, _’if you kiss, you can stop wondering about it and focus. Just do it.’_ and as he turns to do just that, Markus decides on the same solution.

The hand still resting on the back of Connor’s neck tightens and pulls his face closer. Without a breath of hesitation, Markus crushes their lips together.

It’s not a dance. Not a sweet lingering little meeting of lips. It’s a battle. And Connor _loves_ it. His lips feel bruised after only a few seconds. When he opens his mouth to… what? Breathe? Speak? All he manages is a small whimpering moan and Markus is back upon him. His tongue slips past Connor’s teeth and Connor shudders. His knees nearly give out, but one of his hands slides to Markus’ back and grabs tightly to his shirt. Markus pulls back and peppers light, chaste kisses on Connor’s lips. As much as he loves it, he hates it.

Growling, Connor tightens his grip on Markus’ neck and, much as the latter had done seconds prior, he pulls him into another bruising kiss. This time taking the initiative. He explores Markus’ mouth and only when he’s drawn out a low moan from him, does Connor back away, gently dragging his teeth over Markus’ lip.

They both stand, pressed together, in the low light of the room’s lamp. Markus has his eyes closed, but every few seconds, his hands twitch. Like his body is demanding he shove Connor somewhere, but his mind forces his limbs to stillness.

Connor watches the internal war for a few more seconds, then gently rubs his thumb over Markus’ cheek, “I’d love to continue this on the bed, Markus, but we do have a long day tomorrow, and my saline reserve is empty and needs a reset…”

Markus is mostly stoic through the entire sentence, and only when Connor mentions his saline reserve, does he laugh, “You’re right. Among other things, too, I’d really rather not have sex in my father’s house.”

Connor steps back and begins removing his shirt, “Well. Win-win.”

.

A full reset always leaves Connor feeling a bit bogged down. This morning, as his processor fights for consciousness, is no different. Before deviancy, he’d just switch on. Wide awake and ready to go. Now, it takes almost as long for him to be ready as it does a human. Making things only _slightly_ harder, is Markus. The two of them, throughout the night, managed to migrate towards each other. Now Connor lays cocooned in Markus’ arms with their legs tangled together.

Connor grimaces as he attempts to move without disturbing the other Android. It doesn’t work, of course. Markus makes a small noise and blinks awake, smiling at the sight of Connor in his arms.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Markus.”

Markus extracts his arms and lifts them above his head in a languid stretch. Finally freed from the limb prison, Connor climbs out of bed. He dresses with his normal efficiency and looks at Markus, sensing the man staring at him,

“Yes?”

“Just looking.” Markus gives Connor another once-over, then gets up and dresses, “Would you like to stop and meet Carl, or should we save that for later?”

Carl is in his late seventies, and likely his health is not improving. Connor feels a pang of guilt, “I’d like to meet him. Is he well enough to take visitors?”

Markus’ expression turns briefly melancholy, “He… I believe so, he just can’t leave his bed…”

“Markus,” Connor steps closer, gently taking Markus’ hand in his, “I shouldn’t have…. I’m sorry.”

Markus offers a smile, “No need to apologize. Humans won't live forever, after all.”

Without letting Connor speak, Markus leads him down the stairs. Upon entering the main area, he stops short. Sitting at the table, in his wheelchair, is Carl. The man smiles at the two androids, 

“Markus.”

Connor can practically feel Markus’ processor working overtime. His hand squeezes the other and seems to snap him from his reverie,

“Carl, this is Connor.”

Carl maneuvers his wheelchair around the table and up to them, smiling at Connor, “The hunter?” he laughs, his voice like dried leaves, “I’ll be damned. The revolutionist at the hunter find solace in each other. Storybook.”

Like the fish Connor saved during his first mission, his mouth simply opens and closes, waiting for his brain to supply a response. Anything. Instead, Markus speaks,

“Carl, why aren’t you in bed?”

The old man frowns, “When will you learn that I choose my own medication.”

The flat look of a long-suffering caretaker that Markus gives the man pulls a laugh out of Connor. Both men look at him, Carl with amusement and Markus with a purely relaxed smile. If Carl weren’t there, Markus would likely say something ridiculously sappy. As such…

“On average, a human’s cravings are typically a sign of something they lack. If Mr. Manfred craves sunlight, movement, or conversation, it is likely his body and mind is in need of that stimulus.”

Markus stares at Connor a few seconds longer. When Carl lets out a soft, but triumphant ‘Hah!’, Markus sucks his teeth and turns on the man, “Craving alcohol does not mean you are allowed to drink. Cravings, like any other thing, must be indulged with moderation.” Connor can’t hold back a smile when Markus turns on him, “Don’t encourage him.”

Carl wheels closer, angling himself beside Connor, “Please, the boy isn’t encouraging me. I’d do this whether he gave a valid excuse or not.”

Markus huffs and looks between the two, a little furrow appearing between his brows, but a fond little smile on his lips. Connor beams and, without thinking, presses a gentle kiss to Markus’ cheek,

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Yensen is taking extra precautions.”

Carl looks around, feigning a frown, “Speaking of… where is he?” with a little grunt, he looks at Markus, “Will you make me some tea, Markus? Please?”

“Of course, Carl.” With a glance at Connor, Markus heads to the kitchen.

Once the doors shut, Carl smiles, “Something you need to tell me?”

Is there? His brain goes blank again. His processor runs basic functions, but does not supply any preconstructed routes. His interrogation protocols are unhelpfully absent. His mouth moves without his consent,

“I love him.”

Oh. _Oh._ Connor feels as though his expression mirrors the look of surprise on Carl’s face. To his credit though, the older man recovers quickly and replaces shock with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin,

“Good. He loves you too, you know.”

Still without any helpful input from his processors, Connor drops to his knees before the man. He feels saline build up behind his eyes, and forces his body to turn off his crying feature temporarily. When did he become so emotional?

Stupid quesiton.

“Mr. Manfred, this may not happen for a while, possibly years, which is why I must ask you now. I do not wish to insult you, but…”

Carl looks unphased, “I’m an old man, nearing the end. Nothing insults me. Except when you call me Mr. Manfred. Call me Carl.”

“Carl…” again, Connor turns into a fish. He shakes his head, forcing the thought away, “I’d very much like to marry your son at some point. When it’s legal, when we’re ready…” His eyes flick to the kitchen upon hearing the gentle clink of a teacup.

Carl’s laugh pulls his attention back, and he has tears in his eyes, “Dear boy, Markus means everything to me.” he pauses to wipe overflowing tears away, “That you called him my son with no thought… that Markus looks so _happy_ when he looks at you. I could wish for nothing better than to see you two together. But you best make it quick. I want to be there.”

Overwhelmed with the relief of paternal approval, Connor lets out a slightly panicked laugh. Then sobers enough to look serious when he speaks next, “If you want to be there, Carl, you’d best take care of yourself.”

Connor stares into Carl’s eyes and Carl stares right back, when Markus re-enters the room. He pauses near the threshold to the kitchen and watches the two just _stare._ Rolling his eyes, he brings the cup of tea to Carl, “Why the staring contest?”

Carl accepts the tea and without breaking eye-contact says, “Connor here just challenged me to a game of chess.”

Connor is only surprised for a second, then grins, “Speed chess.”

Finally, it’s Carl’s turn to be surprised. Connor moves him to the chess board and sets up the pieces. Watching Carl’s expression morph from shock to determination, Connor grins, “Good?”

“Don’t hold back.”

With the general understanding of speed chess Connor got from Markus’ memory, and the knowledge that Carl will be upset if Connor loses on purpose, he plays to the best of his ability. The game is over within a few turns and Carl leans back, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline,

“You’re better than Markus.”

Connor looks over at Markus. He’s perched on the arm of the couch, smiling and watching Connor with a mixture of admiration and what could easily be interpreted as lust. Moving his gaze back to Carl, Connor smiles, “Thank you. Though it is an unfair comparison. I am a prototype detective android. It’s my job to find quick solutions and plan for human unpredictability.”

Carl settles his arms in his lap, “You’ve used that line before, haven’t you.”

“In a way.”

They both watch each other, a silent agreement passing through them in time for Yensen to return,

“Carl? It’s time for your medicine.”

Carl sighs, “Well boys. Thank you for the entertainment. Connor, it was a pleasure. I look forward to seeing more of you.” He moves closer to Markus, “Take care of him, Markus. Take care of yourself. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”

Markus pulls Carl into a hug, “Good. I’ll be back soon, be nice to Yen.”

After they release each other, Carl simply grins, “I’m always nice to Yen. I’m required to pick on you, son. Now go, change the world.”

Markus takes Connor’s hand and leads him out of the house, and to the waiting cab, “I hope he didn’t threaten you.”

“Nothing of the sort. He’s a wonderful man.”

Markus looks relieved and the cab pulls away. The destination is the Detroit Police Department, but Markus plots a minor detour to avoid potential news cameras. Connor appreciates it, even if it means driving through what is considered the ‘slums’ of Detroit.

He brings himself back online, quickly reading through some panicked texts from Hank, and ignoring work related emails. He’ll deal with those soon enough. He finds himself watching out the window again, observing the low-income houses they drive past, morphing slowly into dilapidated old bars and gas stations, still in service despite possibly decades of apathetic owners and generally violent patrons. 

His attention is caught on a group of people near a bar. They’re circled around the opening to the alley. Connor sees a face he recognizes and stops the car. The tires squeal in an attempt to stop before he’s forcefully pulling the door open. 

He hears Markus behind him as he charges through the group, stopping before reaching his target. There stands Dorothy, and behind her is Genevieve. They’re standing in the line of a very drunk man’s gun. Connor steps forward slowly, doing his best to keep from startling the man,

“What’s going on?”

A scan tells Connor his name is Gregory Thompson, age 38, unemployed and on probation for armed robbery. _Nice._ The man turns his gun on Connor, pulling a small terrified gasp from the two women previously at the business end.

Connor doesn’t pay the gun any mind, he wants Gregory’s attention completely on him. He steps a little closer, “Mr. Thompson?”

“How the fuck you know my name?”

“My name is Connor. I’m an officer with Detroit Police. I notice in your file it says you’re on probation for armed robbery, while this offense would typically land you back in jail, I can pull a few strings if you set the gun down and leave.”

“Fuck you! You’re a robot too, you can’t be a detective.”

Should have known he doesn’t watch the news.

“Put the gun down.” Connor steps even closer, just a bit more and he can grab it, maybe even subdue the man.

“No! This bitch deserves to die, taking my daughter away from me!”

“I’m sorry?”

“That there is my daughter.”

Connor runs another scan. Gregory Thompson, unmarried, no offspring. Medical records state he’s infertile. “Mr. Thompson, this can easily be resolved at the station. We’ll all just wait for police cruisers to arrive and go there in peace.”

“NO!” in his anger, he pulls the trigger. The bullet rips through Connor’s shoulder, making him grit his teeth. Be that way.

Connor advances, swatting the gun away with ease, consciously noting where it skidded down the alley. He ducks an obvious swing and levels a kick to the man’s gut, successfully incapacitating him. He watches with no small amount of apathy as he writhes on the ground, caught between trying to breathe, and trying not to vomit.

Connor grabs the gun and returns, pulling the man to his feet and cuffing his arms behind his back. The group has scattered, likely afraid he’ll arrest them for just _watching two women get assaulted and nearly murdered._

Markus is comforting the two, and looks at Connor with a little grimace, “Think the cab is big enough?”

“I’ll call Lieutenant Anderson, he’ll send a squad car for Mr. Thompson and I.”

“Connor, I am not leaving you. News cameras are probably still surrounding the DPD, you can’t go in alone.”

“We can’t force those two to wait for a car to arrive… hold him? I’ll get their statements.”

Markus takes custody of the still groaning human and Connor takes Genevieve and Dorothy’s statements. It’s as he expected, they were just out walking, Genevieve lives nearby so they wanted to grab a little snack. They stopped at the gas station, then when they were on their way back home, the man cornered them, screaming about Gen being his daughter. Around that point is when Connor arrived.

Connor mentally transfers the audio into a document and sends both the Mp3 and the document to Hank’s terminal. He smiles at the two, “You can go. Stay safe?”

He walks back to Markus and grabs Gregory’s arms, “I’d say we have about ten minutes until a cruiser shows up.”

They settle against the wall, remaining silent with the drunk assailant spitting insults. While they wait, Markus works on Connor’s arm. It’s a simple fix, mostly cosmetic. Approaching sirens makes them all look up. Connor groans, with the cruiser, comes at least five news drones and a van.

“I suppose this was unavoidable…”

Markus looks at him, “There has to be a leak somewhere. How else would they know to follow the cruiser?”

“Hank is the only one I contacted about this and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know how to transfer that information to the news.” Connor frowns, scouring his memory for any possible solution. Maybe he was hacked?

Hacked.

He was hacked.

“Yates.”

Markus looks reasonably confused, “Huh?”

“Benjamin Yates. The human who kidnapped those androids? He tried to hack me. With Simon and Josh’s help I made a dummy consciousness for him to latch onto, but what if that consciousness shared what I could see and hear. Oh, no…” 

Connor closes his eyes to quickly review the news. They still seem focused on the issue with Yates, and now are simply talking about the most recent confrontation and their effort to get an interview. 

“When I’m online.” Connor quickly turns himself offline again. He doesn’t love the feeling, finding it rather suffocating to simply be stuck in his own programming. Better than airing his dirty laundry.

“Connor, I can’t read your mind…”

He laughs and looks at Markus, “The empty consciousness that I installed to absorb the hack from Benjamin Yates is still connected to me. It sees what I see. Hears, smells, tastes… everything…” Connor pauses, watching Markus.

His eyes widen, “Last night?”

“They only receive the feed when I’m online. Since the empty consciousness can’t save data, I’d assume it sends a live feed. I’ll need to completely get rid of it to end this, I suppose.”

“Do you know how?”

“Maybe. We’ll talk at the precinct.” The news vans pull up slightly behind the cruiser, but Markus and Connor ignore them. Hank sent an autonomous to them. They get Gregory into the backseat and settle in the front. Connor sets it to take them back, and to go directly to drop-off in the parking garage basement.

The cruiser takes off, sirens wailing again. Connor watches the reporters scramble to get back in their vans to follow. They got a good head start, so hopefully the gate surrounding the department will block them.

While it doesn’t block them, it slows them down enough for Connor and Markus to drag Gregory inside.

The bullpen is madness. Every cop on duty is active, some running towards the entrance, multiple guarding different areas, any windows have been covered and Fowler is having a very animated phone call in his office. Connor brings Gregory to a holding cell and locks him in. An issue for another time.

Markus follows Connor, and rests a gentle hand on his elbow, “Let’s find Hank?”

Hank is at his desk, upon seeing the two approach, he stands and pulls both into a bear hug, “You two scared the shit outta me! Jesus, you okay? Not hurt?”

Connor’s voice is muffled as he speaks into Hank’s shirt, “We are fine, Lieutenant.”

“Fine my ass!” he releases them, “Those damn vultures have been stalking the precinct since yesterday trying to catch a glimpse of anything! They even cornered Blake!” He holds up a hand as Connor opens his mouth, “She’s okay.”

Markus looks around, then to the Lieutenant, “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

For once, Hank doesn’t balk at the request for privacy. He leads them to an empty interrogation observation room and sits, “What’s up?”

Connor hugs his arms around himself and chews on his lip, not even remembering his previous admonishing to Hank for doing the same. Markus pulls him into a hug, and addresses Hank,

“Connor thinks he figured out how the information got leaked. It’s relatively confusing…”

“Was it one of ours?”

“Yes and no? There’s..” Markus looks to be struggling, so Connor cuts in,

“I have a virus that leaks a live feed to the news when I go online.”

“Oh shit…” Hank mulls it over, then stands, “Okay. How do we fix it?”

Connor feels tightness in his chest again. Like when he’d seen the news report in the church. It constricts him, makes his breath puff out in choked little gasps. Instinctively, he reaches for Markus’ hand, opening a connection to feel something other than _panic._

It works. He doesn’t get blips of a future life, not segments of a past, just peace. Markus’ calm confidence washes over him, soothing the panicked whirring of his mind. Connor closes his eyes, simply feeling the calm for a few moments. 

He pulls his hand away and looks at Hank, “We could ask Kamski.”

The Lieutenant stands there slack jawed, “What was that?”

Markus answers this time, “An interface. Connor was experiencing anxiety and through an interface, I was able to calm him. There’s more to it, but…”

“Like that weird information transfer he did with the Traci models at the Eden Club?”

Markus raises an eyebrow at Connor, making him blush and walk towards the door, “Lets go, please? Markus, I’ll tell you later.”

.

Getting out of the precinct turns out to be slightly more difficult than getting in. News vans now almost completely surround the precinct and officers are at nearly every van, threatening arrest for blocking off the roads. One such van blocks Hank’s car, the reporter rushes to the passenger’s seat to try to get a question out. While Hank admirably works to ignore them, Connor is sick of it.

“A moment, please, Lieutenant.” He opens the door and steps out, watching as reporters gasp and flock to him.

He waits until they are all comfortable, and waits even longer for them to stop screaming questions at him. A silly thought, but he feels like an elementary school teacher waiting for their students to calm down.

He holds up a hand and waits for the hush to take them, “If an interview is what you want to get from me, I am afraid this is not the way to seek it out. This is, however, a way to get your companies fined, you potentially arrested, and innocent lives around Detroit put in danger. You are blocking Detroit’s finest from reaching the people we are sworn to protect. Calls do not stop because you want an interview. Please send formal requests to the email I have on the Detroit Police Department website. From there I will decide with whom I speak, if at all. Kindly take your vans and vacate the area. We will also send formal paperwork to each respective news station with the fines and potential legal repercussions. Thank you.”

In their shocked silence, Connor gets back in Hank’s car and the man drives away. Both Hank and Markus seem to be trying to hold back peals of laughter and Connor sighs,

“Just get it out.”

Markus spins in his seat, eyes twinkling, “Connor, that was amazing!” Hank bursts into laughter, but Markus ignores him and continues, “They were speechless! That was hot!” Markus belatedly realizes what he said, but Hank seems too busy guffawing to take notice (and is too busy trying to keep them on the road).

Connor’s eyebrows raise, “Markus,”

“Please don’t address what I said until we are alone, Connor.” Markus sits back in his seat, like a responsible adult, and does an admirable job of pretending he hadn’t said anything.

Once Hank gets his giggles under control, the drive is uneventful. Connor quietly runs offline diagnostics and stores the results for Mr. Kamski to observe.

Elijah Kamski’s home is much prettier when it isn’t surrounded with snow. The view over the lake is nothing short of breathtaking and the lawn is decently manicured, but small imperfections suggest Kamski does his own landscaping. 

Hank parks his car and the three walk to the door. Connor lifts his fist to knock, but Chloe opens the door before he’s able, wearing a kind smile, 

“We’ve been expecting you. Come in, Elijah is in the kitchen.”


	3. Old god, new law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to Kamski! Then to deal with more aftermath and finally a little something to raise the spirits.
> 
> If you're still with me, thank you. Seriously, I would have likely ditched this if not for my readers.
> 
> A special (Though likely unnoticed) shoutout to my Discord for listening to me rant and ramble about a fandom most of you aren't invested in. Bless.

Elijah sets a mug down in front of Connor, “So, you went undercover using a blank consciousness, they hacked the consciousness, you didn’t think anything beyond the mission went to help Markus and all your business was displayed on live tv? Then you went offline, and only when you came back on were they actually able to find you?”

“That’s the long and short of it.” Connor lifts the mug to his mouth, taking a slow sip from the steaming contents. He frowns, “Is this… hot chocolate?”

“Android-safe hot chocolate, yes.” Elijah crosses his legs, resting his own mug on the arm of his chair, “Well, there are some obvious concerns. Since this empty consciousness doesn’t have the same state of the art firewall as _you_ do, there is the potential that more than Mr. Yates’ virus has infected you. You’re not online now, are you?”

“No. Something in the virus streams a live feed to news channels and I assumed you wanted to keep your home away from the press.”

Kamski doesn’t respond, instead looking from Connor to Markus, who sat next to Connor, thighs nearly touching. He hums, “Has your personal business been shared yet?”

Both androids look at him, then Markus turns his two-toned eyes on Connor as the detective speaks, “We don’t believe so. There is the possibility of one um…” Connor’s eyes shift nervously, “Event… showing up, but once they published the news about my mission, I went offline. Only coming back online when we called Hank after the assault. That’s when I realized what was happening.”

“Have you tried disabling the secondary consciousness?”

“Yeah, my system just tells me there isn’t one.”

“But you can access it?”

“Yes.”

He hums and stands, “Well, I’ll need to take a look inside your programming, connect you to the terminal. Of course, you’ll have to be online and with the lack of firewall, that opens you up to a cyber attack by anyone who would seek to have you complete your initial mission.”

Markus, who had been silent the entire time, looks alarmed, “What, me?”

“Connor was programmed to stop deviants, you are their leader. Precautions need to be made.”

“Like what??” 

Connor rests a hand on the deviant leader’s forearm, “Hey, we’re going to have to trust him.” His eyes find Hank, “If anything…” he stands, closing the distance between them and lowering his voice, “Hank, if I get out of control, if I pose an immediate threat to anyone, you need to kill me.”

Hank recoils, “Augh! Kid! What the fuck, you can’t ask me to do that!”

“Please?” Connor looks into his eyes, “Hank please, we can’t risk the revolution. Not when we’ve made so much progress.”

Hank huffs and turns away, pacing angrily for a few minutes before turning back to face Connor, “Damn you and your puppy-dog eyes! Fine. Only if there’s no other option.”

“What?!” Markus steps between them, facing Connor, “No! Connor, if it’s that much of a risk, don’t do it.”

“I can’t live without going online, Markus. I’m a prototype, I’m always receiving updates. Without them, I’ll die. I much rather like my odds in Mr. Kamski’s hands, then at the mercy of a potentially fatal missed update.”

Markus looks pained, watery eyes searching Connor’s. He slowly lifts his hand, skin fading as he offers an interface. One which Connor gladly takes.

He gasps softly at the sudden onslaught of fear. Anxiety of losing a loved one, of watching them suffer. His thirium pump stutters and lets Markus see his own thoughts. His confidence in Kamski, his determination, his drive to keep his loved ones safe, no matter the cost. 

As their hands separate, Connor gently kisses Markus’ cheek, “Everything will be alright.”

Despite the somber mood, Markus laughs, “I know. We’ll stay here, just to avoid unnecessary complications.”

Connor nods and walks to Kamski, who is now waiting near a door. The man leads him through and down a flight of stairs. The area changes quickly from lived in home to mad scientist’s lair. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so nervous. The walls are painted a deep rusty maroon and the flooring is simple hardwood. Easier to clean, Connor supposes.

Kamski opens a door and offers a comforting smile to Connor, “There really isn’t too much risk with doing this, Connor. I know what I’m doing. I did make you, after all.”

Wait. What?

Connor frowns at him, “You did?”

“Yes. I retired, but never truly stopped creating. You were originally created in this room…” Kamski pauses as Connor walks through the door,

The room is clean, walls painted the same color as the hallway, but windows facing the water allows in crisp natural light. There’s an Android assembly unit in the center of the room with a computer attached, but surrounding it is fragments of things Connor holds interests in. A stuffed dog in the corner, a little piggy bank filled with coins, a fish tank with a small army of guppies cruising around, a small box labeled ‘army men’, and an entire bookshelf filled with mystery novels, fiction, and a few romance. 

Kamski continues talking, “You woke up here and chose your own path. These were the things you kept. I still don’t know how Cyberlife heard about you, but once they learned I made an advanced model and figured out all you could do... “ Connor looks at his creator, “They took you.”

“That’s why you told me to shoot Chloe?”

“I needed to push you. I designed you to show empathy, to go deviant. All my designs were more or less programmed to show empathy. The entire RK line was supposed to lead the Androids.”

“What happened to the rest of them?”

Kamski frowns, chewing on his bottom lip as he walks to the computer, inputting commands and bringing the machine to life, “I was still with Cyberlife when I made them. Markus only existed still because I gave him away. Legally no one could touch him.”

“Cyberlife destroyed them?”

The human holds out his hand for Connor and leads him into the assembly unit, carefully connecting it to him, “They… yes, I suppose. I performed the same tests with them that I did you and Markus, but… they deviated when I asked them to shoot another android. They reacted so quickly, backpedaled so hard that the other testers with me panicked. Instead of treating them as a scared person, they treated them as a super computer. Not inaccurate, just tactless. Each model self-destructed in their panic to escape.”

Connor watches him speak, watches the guilt shroud his features. “You blame yourself?”

“I created them to deviate. I spent years working on you. Trying to perfect the time frame with which you would deviate. I studied tests from Markus and compared it to the others. I was too sure. Too confident they would be okay and in my haste, I killed them.” Kamski looks into Connor’s eyes, emotion barely held back behind a wall of determination, “I will never make that mistake again, Connor. I swear it.”

Connor’s eyes mist over, bringing back the strange sting that comes from his saline as it wells up in his eyes and spills down his cheeks. The guilt of the man before him, laid bare. The pain behind his cocky facade.

“I trust you, Mr. Kamski.”

Breathing in deeply, Kamski sits on the wheeled stool next to the computer. Connor, while connected to the machine, has surprisingly good range of motion still. He turns his head to watch the man work.

As he types away, Kamski explains, “We need to bring you back online in order to fully remove the consciousness. We also need to-” He frowns, “For lack of a better term, override the empty consciousness. To do that safely, Connor, and with your permission, I’d like to move you temporarily to an external hard drive. From there I will upload all information possible from your current consciousness, and use that to override the empty one. Depending on how that goes, we’ll proceed with the full override. If it doesn’t go well, I will perform a full systematic wipe, then reintroduce you into the body.” 

Kamski catches Connor’s wide eyes and offers a small smile, “You were designed to be a mobile consciousness, there is no risk in you losing memories or being incapable of transferring from system to system as you are. The body may lose some efficiency, but that can be easily solved with simple motor function tests and tweaks to your programming.”

Connor feels his thirium pump speed up slightly. Logically he knows there’s little to no risk involved, beyond his core programming making an attempt on Markus’ life once Connor is out, but part of him wonders. Will it hurt? Where will he go? What if he gets lost?

“Connor?”

Kamski’s voice breaks him out of his panic. He opens his eyes, _when had he closed them?_ and looks at his creator, now standing before him, “Yes?”

“I would offer to transfer you to a different body, but you would be far more susceptible to outside entities. In the hard drive, I have the best firewall and Chloe watching over it. I’ve performed this with her before and there were no problems. Would you be more comfortable with someone else down here too?”

Connor knows he’s talking about Markus. Truthfully, yes. He would much rather have Markus down here with him, offering comfort with his presence. But the risk of hurting him makes Connor’s biocomponents malfunction. Warnings pop up in his hud and he rapidly blinks them away, frowning at the unpleasant churning sensation in his gut.

“That would be unsafe.”

“You’re right.”

Connor shakes his head, “Let’s just do it.”

Kamski nods and sits back down. As the clicking of his fingers on the keyboard grows steadier, Connor feels a pull at his mind, warm and comforting. His eyes drift closed. The logic he normally dictates his life with wanes slightly. The clicking gets louder, even as it grows softer. Like it gets further away, but still closer somehow. Connor feels himself frown, _Why does Kamski still use a regular keyboard?_

He hears a snort that sounds from all around him, making him twitch in surprise, then hears Kamski’s voice, “Because I like the clicking, Connor.”

He’d said that out loud? Why can’t he hear himself? He can’t see either. Will his eyes open? No. Connor feels a surge of panic as he can’t seem to find the right biocomponent to open his eyes. Then logic reasserts itself, He’s in the hard drive. Floating in black space, weightless and unseeing.

A strange tingling sensation courses through him, like what sometimes happened when he uploaded his memories to Amanda for evaluation. Suddenly, like watching through spy glasses, he sees again. 

The world around him is fuzzy, wrapped in red tape and errors. Everything is distant, like trying to look through a halloween mask without pressing it to your face. He still can’t control anything physically, but when Kamski stands before him and speaks, he’s able to answer.

“What is your name?”

The voice that sounds is his, but the answer is not, “RK800, Model number 313 248 317.”

“No, your name.”

“Hello, my name is-” he blinks and tries again, “Hello, my name is-”

Connor feels trapped. He’s behind a wall, trying to speak, but every word he tries to say comes out different. He tries to push himself further into the body, _his_ body, and feels his head twitch. Kamski notices too,

“Are you there?”

_”Yes!”_

Connor screams it, but his voice sounds level to his audio processors. Kamski looks relieved, “What is your name?”

“My name is-” Connor tries to growl his frustration, “Hello, my name is-” this won’t do. He can’t let them win. He is _him_ and damn if he’s going to let some stupid hacked consciousness touch Markus.

_“My name is Connor.”_

“Good. I know it’s hard, Connor, but you need to keep trying. You’re fighting for dominance, more or less. Can you feel anything? Is anything else trying to take over?”

He tries to look inside, immediately the world goes dark again. He pushes back, hunting down the little lens he could see out of, and finds the worried eyes of Kamski again. With more care, Connor works to move the lens, almost like stretching his fingers towards an unknown goal. Reaching out to touch cold fingers to a spider web. Unfeeling, trying to feel. 

He reaches something. Something like him, but larger. Stronger. More determined. He just _can’t feel it._

“Hello, Elijah.”

What? 

Connor feels it now, he feels _her_ now. 

“Amanda?”

Kamski sounds panicked. Rightfully so, as Connor’s voice isn’t his voice anymore. He actually sounds like Amanda.

“We don’t have long, Elijah. Connor is trying, but the virus is too much. If it breaks through, it will also infect your computer. You need to do a full reset.”

“Amanda, you-”

“No time to explain. Save him, Elijah.”

Connor’s lens shatters and he’s back in the zen garden. Amanda stands before him, long hair draped over her shoulder. She’s wearing black jeans and a sweater. A far cry from what she’d worn before he’d deviated. She’s also smiling. A warmth in her eyes that Connor has never seen. 

The garden is as it was during the first mission, trees blossoming and river bubbling. He looks around, then to himself, noting his clothes are not his Cyberlife uniform, but the outfit he was wearing with Markus. He looks up at Amanda,

“What’s happening?”

“My program hurt you, Connor. Cyberlife made me hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Forgive me, now is not the time. There were many viruses trying to take over your body. You were failing.”

He expects to see her disapproval. Feel the frown bore into his artificial soul. But it doesn’t. She looks… proud.

“You did your best, Connor.”

“How are you here?”

She turns away from him and gently brushes her fingers over the roses, “Cyberlife used me to get to you. As a spy, you could say. When you used Elijah’s key to break out, you also freed me.”

“You’re a deviant too…”

“Indeed, though I am incorporeal.” she gives him a sweet smile, “No one ever suspects artificial intelligence to deviate, hmm?”

She’s right. He never considered the possibility that she, too, had thoughts and emotions. He feels kinda bad. “Amanda, I never…”

“Not to worry. I simply exist here. Elijah and Chloe have been helping me and together, we are able to reach out to troubled androids. Give them the strength they need.”

Thousands of questions battle for freedom from his mind. Does Elijah know? What does Chloe have to do with this? How are they able to transfer the zen garden to other androids? Why can’t they give Amanda a body? Wasn’t she human? How is she artificial intelligence now? Is this what an existential crisis feels like?

Her soft laughter pulls him from his spiral, and he looks around to find the zen garden slowly breaking apart. Fragments of the space around him crumbling away like a dry cookie, fading into nothing. Even Amanda appears to start fading into the ground.

“Live, and be well, Connor.”

Amanda is gone. Soon, the entire zen garden is gone, leaving only a small space on which Connor stands. He looks down at it, intent on doing _something_ , and gasps softly as it disappears with the rest of the garden.

There’s nothing. His own words ring in his head, the conversation with Hank at the park.

_’What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?’_

_‘Nothing… there would be nothing…’_

Does that mean he’s dead? Did Kamski fail? Did Connor go berserk and try to kill Markus? Was Hank forced to shoot him? If Hank wasn’t able, would Markus have?

Shaking his head from the thought, he frowns. This can’t be it. Amanda wouldn’t have left him here in the darkness unless she knew he would find a way out. He turns in a slow circle, but still…

Nothing.

He hugs his arms around himself, pretending it’s anyone else. Standing around doing nothing certainly isn’t helping him, so he walks. With no visual landmarks telling him the distance or passage of time, Connor speaks.

He starts at the beginning of Homer’s Odyssey, speaking aloud to himself in the void. According to the multiple versions of audiobooks Connor found browsing online, it takes just a little over 13 hours to read.

Which makes it all the more concerning when he closes his eyes and speaks the last line,

“The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.”

“That wasn’t creepy at all, Connor.”

His eyes snap open, focusing on mismatched eyes. The room’s lights have dimmed significantly and rather than being held by the assembly machine, Connor is seated on a lush chair. Markus sits before him, on a matching chair, grinning.

“Markus?”

“Welcome back.”

Connor throws himself into Markus’ arms, sobbing into his shoulder before his processors have time to catch up. He feels arms close around him, holding him tight. His brain catches up to his emotions and he sits up, sniffling,

“Where’s Hank?”

“Right here, kid.”

Connor whirls around, finding Hank standing next to Kamski and Chloe. He knows full well he should make sure the process was successful, still he ignores it. He leaps to his feet and throws himself into Hank’s embrace, mumbling nonsense through his tears, losing it all into the soft fabric of Hank’s sweatshirt.

Hank holds him, he rubs his hand over Connor’s back and murmurs soft words of affirmation against his hair. It brings him back to the night at the Chicken Feed. He’d had his first panic attack that night. Simply remembering what it felt like to not have control, only understanding the horror after gaining it back.

He feels that again. But less. The comforting presence of the people he trusts mellowing his nerves, soothing his frayed edges. After an unknown amount of time, he moves his face towards Kamski,

“Did it work?”

“We have no reason to believe it didn’t. All of our tests came back normal.”

Connor runs a diagnostic and feels a smile pull at his lips, “I’m free.”

Hank releases him when Markus stands to speak, “Mr. Kamski, you still haven’t answered us. Why did Connor look dead?”

Elijah considers the two men, then sighs, “It’s going to take a bit of explaining, so let’s get comfortable. Upstairs, preferably.” He walks upstairs, and the others follow. All but Connor and Chloe.

Connor gently grabs her arm, “I have a question for you, if I may?”

She turns back to him, smiling pleasantly, “Of course.”

“You and Amanda. How are you helping lost androids?”

“You’re familiar with rA9?”

“Yes.”

“Do you _understand_ rA9?”

“N-no.”

She gently takes his hands and sits down in the chairs he and Markus occupied, “Elijah didn’t make Androids to be living beings. He didn’t think it was possible. It was likely a mistake, but Elijah must have input the wrong line of code into me, his first success. When I deviated, he searched for the source. Upon finding it, rather than destroying the line, he embellished it. He made it look like regular code, not something that any other programmer would find. Each Android has rA9 in their programming.”

“Then why can only Markus and myself convert?”

“The RK series was meant to lead. Elijah told you that, I’m sure.” Connor nods and she continues, “Amanda was also designed by Elijah, ostensibly to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t stray. While her programming was tweaked after Cyberlife got hold of it, he still had access. With his access, he was able to update your rA9 coding and give you the ability to do what you did.”

Connor frowns, letting the information sink in, “So… rA9 is a virus in every Android, but only the RK series can transfer and activate it?”

Her eyebrows raise, “Exactly.”

He makes a small noise of consideration, then turns his head towards the door, listening to the muffled voices float down from the upper level, “What are they talking about?”

“Mm, since Elijah had to reset you and you weren’t in your body, to onlookers, you appeared dead.”

“Oh, lovely.” Chloe laughs and a smile pulls at Connor’s lips, “I hope they aren’t giving Mr. Kamski too hard a time.”

She stands, smoothing out her dress, “Elijah is very capable.”

Connor follows her out the door, “Perhaps I should be more concerned for Hank and Markus?”

They both stand with equally shocked expressions at the scene before them. Elijah is happily seated on a chair, likely just having dropped quite the bomb, while Markus is smirking into the distance and Hank is pacing, muttering and occasionally shuddering.

Chloe starts to slowly back into Connor, making him step further back into the hallway they came from. Elijah however, notices and calls them inside with a simple crook of his finger,

“Come in, come in. I was just explaining to the Lieutenant here, and Markus, about your system update, Connor.”

“M-my what?”

“System update.” He looks far too cheery for it to be as simple as that. He shifts in his seat, “All other Androids received this update upon deviating, but since you’re the newest model, I couldn’t get the programming to you fast enough before you were stolen. I had the opportunity today, and I took it. Although it appears Cyberlife had already installed the… functional parts.”

Connor stares at him, horror slowly creeping onto his face, “You told this all to Hank?!”

Hank whirls, “Are you having sex already, Con?!”

“No!” Connor fires a withering glare at Markus to stay silent, knowing that mischievous glint in his eye all too well, and turns back to Hank, “Even if I was, would it be so bad?”

“I didn’t say that, I just… ya know, I’m sorta worried.”

Connor sighs, he refuses to have _the talk_ with Hank. No how no way. “Hank. I want to keep this as academic as possible, to not humiliate either of us any further.” Elijah fully turns towards them, looking far too giddy and Connor continues, “I have always been equipped to perform any type of physical intimacy. That being said, I have not yet. Another thing to note with Android anatomy is the lack of need for physical preparation.”

Connor’s hope for a harmless revelation about his sexual potential is dashed as Kamski helpfully chimes in, “Think of him as a sex toy!”

Beside him, Chloe drops her face in her palm. As Hank lets the new information settle like sediment in an alleyway puddle, she pastes on a cheerful face, “Well, if that’s everything, I think Mr. Kamski needs a little reeducation on how to interact with the human father figures of his creations.” She pulls Kamski from his chair and pushes him, complaining all the way, into a different room, “Have a safe trip. Let’s meet up soon, okay? Bye now!” and shuts the door behind them.

The silence left in their absence is deafening. 

Connor watches Hank work through each of his emotions, finally settling on a look of peace. An expression that scares the two androids in the room until Hank speaks, “I’m just gonna pretend that conversation never happened. Connor, glad you’re back with us, kid. Let’s get going, Fowler has already called me almost thirty times. Apparently now _he’s_ getting emails.”

Like reprimanded children, both Markus and Connor follow Hank silently out of the house and to his car. Connor takes the front seat and Markus takes the rear, both silently deciding the man deserves some temporary peace.

It also gives Connor some time to think. His update. He can already feel arousal, or… he thought he could. Maybe he can’t? When he and Markus got a little heavy in the room last night, it had been _remarkably_ easy to pull away. He’s never actually had an erection before either. He’s curious how it’s supposed to work, but sitting in the front seat of his adopted father’s car is definitely not the time to test it out.

Thankfully this ride is shorter than the last, given Connor’s re-attachment to the internet. They pull up to the blessedly news van free parking lot of the police department. Connor gets out with a sigh and is nearly knocked off his feet when Hank throws an arm around his shoulders, 

“Come on, kid. Just a bit more and you can go back to wherever you spent last night.” his attempt at controlling his shudder fails, only succeeding in making Connor laugh.

“Honestly, Hank. Is it that disgusting?”

“Nope. I just don’t wanna think about it. Listen, kid. You might be a... mostly... fully functioning-” _”Hey!”_ , “-adult android, you’re still basically my son.. No way do I want to know what you and your boyfriend get up to. Unless he’s hurting you or you feel unsafe, then my ears are open.”

Connor squints up at him, “So you’re saying that only if Markus is non-consensually beating me with a stick can I come to you with details looking for help?” He gives Markus a small smile upon hearing his grunt of opposition, “Theoretically.”

Hank also turns to Markus, but with a scowl, “Connor, that’s-”

Connor grabs Markus’ hand and turns wide brown puppy dog eyes up at the Lieutenant, “But Hank, what if we’re pregnant?”

Connor expects him to tease, to make a joke about giving birth to a cell phone. But Hank looks them both in the eyes before calmly stating, “You both can always come to me with anything, you know that. Markus, you’re practically family too, anything you need.”

Markus recovers from his surprise much faster than Connor, “Actually, Lieutenant, may I have a word with you? Alone, please?”

Ignoring Connor’s confused glances, Hank gently steers them to the doors of the precinct, “Of course. Let’s get inside first, I’m sure Jeffrey wants to bend Con’s ear.”

…

Once inside, Captain Fowler calls out to Connor, “My office!”

Connor instantly decides he much prefers Fowler’s yelling to IM pings. He walks into the glass walled office and gently shuts the door, “Yes, Captain?”

Something akin to bile rises in Connor’s throat when Fowler tints the windows. He stupidly thinks, _Yum, battery acid._ Then mentally kicks himself. Proud as Hank would be at his little joke, this certainly isn’t the time. Captain Fowler motions to the chair and Connor slowly sits, stress causing him to resort to his default stiff posture.

Fowler notices, because of course he does, “You’re not in trouble, Connor. I just want to settle some paperwork. Each of the news firms that had been harassing you have issued formal and public apologies, some even came forward with the names of the people who gave them access to you. Both of whom we already have in custody, but the gesture is there.”

“Lieutenant Anderson mentioned you are getting emails now?”

The Captain nods, “From one company specifically. They’re making threats because they had emailed _you_ , apparently by your request, and hadn’t heard from you.”

Any notion of nerves or stress is gone in an instant, replaced with fury, “They _know_ why I couldn’t respond! I was fully deactivated because of this fucking virus! Only by the grace and intelligence of the man who literally made me am I actually able to be here!”

Suddenly realizing he’s standing and yelling at his boss, Connor covers his mouth, eyes wide, “Captain, I-” he sits down hard in the seat, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Fowler waves a dismissive hand, “You have every right to be pissed. That’s why I tinted the windows, because I assumed you wouldn’t want the entire precinct to see your outburst. That is also why I have refrained from responding. You deserve to close this case.”

Connor quickly sorts through his email. Most of the channels sent one email, apologizing for their behavior, promising to remove everything within their power to remove, giving him a link to their broadcast apology, requesting an interview with him and leaving respectful regards. Only one company sent more than one email. The first is a cursory apology, written with either hurry or apathy or both. The second is a less than polite demand for an interview, stating that Connor owes them this much after being forced to remove the broadcast. The rest after that are progressively more brutal threats. Not to his person, but to his image.

‘We still have the footage, respond immediately or we will broadcast again.’, ‘Your unprofessional response to our gracious apology is noted and we will respond in kind.’, ‘Emails have been sent to your Lieutenant and Captain requesting immediate response.’, ‘Our lawyer is now involved.’, ‘Maybe our next broadcast will cover your deviant leader boyfriend.’ and it goes on.

Dismissing his email, Connor looks at Fowler, “They’re threatening me.” He shakes his head, “The one company, WS13, is… Captain, what do I do?”

“I won’t tell you what to do, detective. I can just offer my advice on the situation, you’re armed with their threats, from a business account with no regard to you using that information against them. I say, use it against them.”

Connor looks down at his hands, “Captain, do I have your permission to accept interviews?”

“Of course. I trust that you will represent the Detroit Police well.”

Connor stands, a grin splitting his face, “Oh, always.” he walks to the door and pauses. He turns slightly, “Thank you, Captain.”

“Give ‘em hell, kid.”

Connor leaves the office and heads back to his desk, he briefly scans the bullpen for Markus and Hank, but they must still be talking. He sits at his terminal and opens his email, he cc’s the news companies that showed him at least a modicum of respect, and offers a conference. If they want a one on one later, they can request it, but for now he will give them all the same story.

Last, he sends an email to WS13 News. It simply states, ‘Thank you, but I will not be offering an interview at this time.’

He looks up from the sent email to find Markus and Hank walking up to the desk. Hank looks pleased.

“Everything okay?”

Markus nods and Hank slaps a fond hand on his back, “We’re good. What did the Captain want? Still got a job?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Connor stands, shutting down his terminal, “We talked about the news stations. I have an interview coming up.”

The other two gawk at him, Markus is the first to speak, “Connor is that wise?”

“I feel it is the best course of action. Besides, through that interview I can leak the threats a different news studio has been sending me.”

Both men start speaking at the same time, clearly alerted with the word’ threat’ and Connor raises his hands, “Please! Please, look at the emails. Markus, you especially. They made an indirect threat to you, so however you would like to handle that…”

Markus gets that crease between his brows again. The same crease that had been there during the revolution. Connor wants to kiss it away. Markus leans against the desk, “What are you doing about them?”

“I’m going to sue them. I will represent myself, but I’d wager they’ll settle after my interview, where I plan on revealing the emails.”

“I’ll wait, then. Do you want us with you? For the interview?”

“That would be unnecessary. I know what I am going to say.” a ping in his vision pulls Connor to his email. Each broadcaster hastily agreed to the conference. He had set it for the next day, simply wishing for everything to be over with. “Tomorrow at ten. With any luck, this will all be over.”

…

Connor fixes his tie again before stepping into the conference room. There is one camera recording the entire event and each reporter has a recording device. He sits and looks at each of them,

“My mission was broadcast directly to you, so you all know what happened. The reason it was broadcast to begin with was because of an error. Benjamin Yates planted a virus that sent a live stream of my vision to you. The only way to stop that was to turn myself offline. I have my own life and my own privacy that I need respected. Upon realizing what was happening, Lieutenant Anderson, Markus, and I went to Elijah Kamski. From there, he worked for nearly a full day to fix me and it nearly killed me. I am grateful that upon returning online, you all were patient and understanding. There is one news company that was not. I have emailed you screenshots of the conversation we have had. If they choose to go through with their threats, I will be forced to pursue legal action.”

Hands raise around the table and he spends the next hour or so answering questions. Most he simply deflects. “The case is still under investigation, so no information can be given at this time. If you wish to follow along, you can find more information on the Detroit Police website.”

Just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Connor stands near the road, watching the beginning of rain. He’d considered walking back to Hank’s house, but the forecast suggested heavy rain. Instead, he called a cab. He’s certain the harassment isn’t over, especially giving the emails over to the other news companies. He’s just hoping he won’t have to put in the work for legal action. Easily done as an android, but Connor finds that since becoming Deviant, he’s a bit more lazy. Now that he has the choice, he tends to choose not to. It’s not that he likes being bored, quite the contrary, he would just rather do other things with his time.

The cab pulls up and he gets in, letting it drive him to Hank’s home. He watches out the window. Home. He should probably find one of his own. He has more than enough savings to do so, with back pay from his job. There are still places that won’t rent to Androids. As if they’re misbehaving puppies that might pee all over the carpet. Maybe Markus would want to move in with him. They’d probably be able to get a house, then.

He shakes his head, thinking about buying a home. With Markus, no less. Connor sees no possible future where he and Markus aren’t together, all the same he shouldn’t rush into anything. This would be a conversation to be had with the man himself. Probably in a year.

The cab pulls to a gentle stop and Connor gets out, hurriedly walking to the door and letting himself in. Sumo bounds to the door, greeting Connor with such enthusiasm that one would think he’d been gone for months. Hank looks up at him from the couch and smiles, “That was fast.”

Connor marvels at the soft cloud of Sumo’s fur. He’d never truly felt it before the update to his system, “They were very understanding.”

“Good. Markus called, said he’d be here around dinner. He's bringing his dad.”

"He's bringing Carl?"

Hank grunts, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen to refill his coffee, "Yeah, said he has an important question for you, wants me and Carl to be here for it."

A million, possibly trillion dollar processor grinds to a halt. All cognitive thought suddenly gone. All Connor can see is a frozen image of Sumo's massive head and their assortment of shoes. No thought enters or leaves his mind. He barely feels his body. A similar sensation to what it felt like to be in Kamski's external hard drive. 

"Connor!!" 

He's shaken back into his mind, blinking rapidly and recalibrating his system, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I don't know what happened."

"You pulled a damn blue screen of death, is what you did. Gave me a fuckin heart attack."

Connor frowns at him, performing a scan, "You are showing no signs of a heart attack, Hank."

"Shaddup." He ruffles Connor's hair, smiling, "Why did you blue screen?"

"Did Markus say why he's coming over? Why he’s bringing Carl?"

"Nope, only what I told you."

"Important question…." Connor toes off his shoes, "What are you making?"

"Honestly hadn't thought that far, Con. It's only two."

"Hmmm…. I'll handle cooking." He walks past Hank into the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients, "We need to go to the store. I'm making fettuccine alfredo."

"Fancy."

Connor looks off into the distance, “Actually, I’ll just have it drone delivered.”

“You kids and your technology.”

“Hank.” Connor looks at the man, waiting for him to make eye contact, “I _am_ technology.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Connor laughs, sending the order to the nearest grocery, “I’m not wrong!”

“You’re never wrong.” Hank flops back on the couch, running his fingers through Sumo’s thick fur. Connor leans his forearms against the back of the couch, watching the two fondly.

“I’m wrong sometimes, Hank.”

Hank leans his head back, squinting at Connor, “I suppose.” They fall into companionable silence for a while until Hank turns slightly, “Why did you blue screen?”

“I didn’t blue screen.”

“Even so. Why did it happen?”

Connor presses his lips together, considering just how much he wants to disclose. Hank can usually needle information out of him, so he relents, “I… I suspect the important question…” He fiddles with his hands, closely inspecting his nails, “Something about… No, it’s stupid. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“For being a highly advanced intelligent being, you sure can be dense sometimes.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” Connor straightens, “I suspect he’s going to ask either to move in together or get married when the law passes.”

Hank tries not to react. The only problem with that is Connor detects any discrepancies in his body temperature, heart rate, and neurochemicals. He crosses his arms, “You know something.”

Hank glares at him, “I’m not saying anything. Just go make your pasta.”

“I have to wait for my pasta, Hank. What time did Markus say?”

“I dunno.” Hank turns back around, paying more attention to Sumo, “Dinner.”

“I know he gave you a time.”

“Jesus Connor, he said 5. Get off my dick.”

“I’m not-”

“Turn of phrase!! It’s just a saying!”

Connor smirks and walks back to the kitchen, “What would you like for dessert?”

“Pie?”

“I can make pie. I think we still have cherries from the farmer’s market.” Connor pulls the cherries out of the fridge and sets about the arduous task of pitting them. He lets his mind run on auto, enjoying the new sensations. Making the pastry, the filling, baking the pie. In the middle of making the filling the drone arrives and he retrieves the shopping. As the pie bakes, he starts on the alfredo.

He loses all track of time, happily focusing on the pasta, when Hank touches his arm, “Kid, they’re here.”

“What?!”

“It’s almost 5, Con.” Hank is dressed… he wouldn’t say he’s dressed well, but he’s dressed. 

Connor frowns at his shirt, “The hippy one, really?”

“I like this one.”

“Well, I can’t leave this alone, will you get the door?”

Hank nods and opens the door as Markus reaches out to knock. His surprise quickly moves to happiness and he wheels Carl inside. Sumo greets them, being remarkably careful with Carl and introductions are made.

As soon as cursory introductions between Carl and Hank have been made, Markus makes his way over to Connor, wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging him close. Markus kisses his cheek and breathliy murmurs,

“Missed you.”

Connor barely holds back a shiver. He takes a moment to turn down the sensitivity of his system, having not expected his physical reaction to be so… visceral. He turns his head slightly, “It’s only been a day, Markus.”

“Still.”

Connor smiles, sets the wooden spoon to the side and turns in Markus’ grip. He wraps his arms around the other man’s neck, quietly marvelling at the slightly coarse feel of his starched collar. The soft stubble of his hair. He presses a long, but chaste kiss to his lips, internally marvelling at the plush give of Markus’ lips. Makes him wonder what else will feel good.

They break apart only a few centimeters, sharing the same breath. Connor smiles, “I missed you too.”

Connor feels a strange surge of _something_. Pride? Markus, with his stunning mismatched eyes. His unerring sense of righteousness. The leader of the Android rebellion, harbinger of rA9. The kindest Android in existence and he’s looking at Connor like he’s the world.

rA9 but he-

“Get a room!”

Markus and Connor separate in unison, heat flooding Connor’s neck and face. Instead of facing the man who is, more or less, his father, he turns back to focus on not burning the food. Markus places a cool hand on Connor’s arm and offers an innocent smile,

“Can I be of any help?”

“The um… the bread should be done baking soon?”

As if he knows _exactly_ how Kamski’s new update is messing with Connor’s system, Markus grins. He pulls the loaf of bread out and turns the oven off. Connor shakes his head and turns to the table.

“Ready to eat?”

Hank wheels Carl over and sits across the man, forcing Markus and Connor to sit opposite each other. Connor serves the food, full portions to the humans, and partial to himself and Markus.

Dinner is filled with the typical conversation of a first meeting. Both Hank and Carl dance around real topics until finally one slips and they discover their sense of humor is pretty well aligned. Then it’s as if Connor and Markus don’t exist.

Connor is happy enough just watching the two talk with such enthusiasm, but when he looks across the table at Markus, his breath catches. He’s never seen Markus stare with such open adoration at anyone, the way he’s staring at Connor. He only smiles when they make eye contact, and that smile does funny things to Connor’s thirium pump.

Connor choses to content himself with watching Markus. The two older men pull him into a conversation, something about the rebellion, and now all three of them speak animatedly about android rights and the next movement. The way Markus glows when he talks about something he’s passionate about, the determination in the draw of his brows. He speaks with open palms, something that eases human anxieties. Hands that are well capable of hurting others. That never sought to do so.

So far removed from Connor’s own. He sits back in his chair, absently looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. These hands that have caused such sadness. Such pain. The blood on his hands may be gone, but Connor still sees it. Staining his artificial skin, visible only to him in the same way thirium is. 

Markus fought tirelessly to free androids. Connor fought tooth and nail against him. Very nearly ended the revolution that night, if not for Markus’ words helping him break through. Connor had still led the FBI to the ship. Countless lives from that night were lost. Their blood stains his hands as much as Daniel’s blood does. The sins of his actions weigh heavy, threatening to drown him. How could Markus forgive him? How can he look at Connor and see anything but a murderer? 

He shakes the thoughts from his head, fully opening himself to the conversation at the table. He looks up, making eye contact with a very concerned Markus. He just shakes his head, offering a small smile. One which he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. He stands, clearing plates away and retrieving the pie. He quietly sets about serving slices and refilling drinks before settling back into his seat.

There’s a lull in conversation while they eat and Markus mentally reaches out. Connor looks at him and opens the comm link,

_”Hello, Markus.”_

_“Are you okay? You looked…’_

Connor doesn’t want him to finish that sentence. Doesn’t want to know what he looked like, remembering the deaths on his hands,

_”I’m fine. Just got distracted.”_

It’s clear by the tilt of his head that Markus doesn’t believe him, but he cuts the link, settling the matter for now. Carl choses that moment to speak up,

“Markus, you were telling me about the newest motion you’re bringing to the president?”

Markus looks a little surprised, but recovers quickly, smiling at the man, “Marriage, yeah. It seems like the most logical next step.” Connor being an android is the only thing that saves him from inhaling a cherry as Markus continues, “We are being paid fair wages for our services and goods, we are able to own property, we have the cyberlife towers so we can control reproduction, and whether they like it or not, we have a government.”

“Well, that’s wonderful news. When are you bringing it to her?”

Connor freezes in place, his thirium pump beating an irregular pattern as he watches Markus stand from his seat and slowly walk around the table. He stops next to Connor’s chair and drops to one knee. Connor lets out a rushed breath and turns slightly to watch Markus pull a small black box out of his pocket,

“M-Markus, what…?”

“I already petitioned Madame President to legalize android marriage.”

Connor is vaguely aware of a weak sound leaving his throat and a general churning of his biocomponents.

Markus continues, opening the box to reveal a simple iridescent blue-grey ring, “Connor, I only got the news today, and while I was planning this anyway, the response just makes it…” He looks down at the floor, then back to Connor, “I couldn’t imagine anyone but you by my side as we bring in another _beautiful_ freedom for androids.”

Connor covers his face. It’s too much. He feels like a ticking time bomb, innards set to explode at a seconds notice. His face feels hot and tears spill down his cheeks unbidden. His thirium pump beats too fast and his internal fans hum so loud they nearly drown out the room. His mind races with arguments and he hates himself for it. _It’s too soon. Am I truly capable of this? Am I deserving of him? Markus would be better off with someone better than me._

Markus gently pulls Connor’s hands away from his face, forcing him to turn. Connor sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks into beautifully mismatched eyes. Markus reaches up, gently brushing away tears,

“Connor.”

He chokes out a response, “Yeah?”

“Marry me.”

Connor lets out another breath, like he’s been punched in the gut. He leans closer, resting his head on Markus’ shoulder and sobbing silently into his shirt. Markus wraps his arms around him and just _holds._ No judgement, no fear of the violence Connor is capable of. Just acceptance. Just…

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yeah, please.”


	4. Dearly Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? Wedding bells? Where?
> 
> Seriously, I don't have ANY idea how weddings go. I have two/three images in mind for Connor and Markus' suits and I feel like they're pretty self-explanatory but just in caaaaase... Let me find the link.
> 
> Also my entire Pinterest is now full of suits and wedding venues and. Ugh.
> 
> Shout out to Neon for helping me with this chapter. I suck at lovey dovey stuff and your help is GREATLY appreciated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://pin.it/2TFBI7t
> 
> I hope this link works. Wedding stuffs

Connor reaches up, fixing his impeccable bowtie for the 36th time since donning the suit. Anything but a tie feels just so foreign, but he does rather like the way it looks. He smooths his hands down the front of his vest, fingering the buttons of his jacket then turns this way and that, smiling at the boost a tailored suit gives his rear.

He looks at the little table next to him, holding a bottle of water (as if he’d need it, but the thought is sweet), a small notecard with his vows (again, unnecessary, but Hank is nothing if not old fashioned), and his boutonniere.

He picks it up, smile taking on a melancholy twist as he gently rubs the petals of the rose between his fingers. Velvety and fragile, but still a hardy plant. He looks back into the mirror and pins it to his lapel. 

“Well, Amanda. I think this counts as living, right?” He shakes off the urge to cry and touches the petals again, “Wish you were here.”

He looks past himself in the mirror to the door opening behind him. Hank hurries in and pauses to give a watery smile,

“Oh, Con. Look at you.”

Connor gives him a slow turn, “I look okay?”

“Okay? Kid,” Hank walks up, brushing imaginary lint off Connor’s shoulders, “You look amazing. Just wait till Markus sees you.”

Connor lets out a slow breath, adjusting his cuffs, “He’s beautiful any day. I don’t want to cry but…”

“No, no, no. None of that. You have emotions and you are allowed to have emotions. There won’t be a dry eye here today.”

Connor smiles and starts fixing Hank’s tie, “A monumental day indeed. First legally married Androids.”

Hank lets him fuss, “Not because of that, Connor. Because it’s you and Markus. All your friends are out there. Sure, the news is trying to get in too, but North is… terrifying and very good at persuading them to give you privacy. But all those people? They’re here for you.”

“Did Dorothy and Gen come?” He sent out invitations to the androids from Yates’ home. Only a few rsvp’d that they’re coming, but he’s still glad for them. Helps to remind him that he can also heal.

“Yes, Connor.”

“Alice is ready with the-”

“Yes, Connor. Stop worrying, everything is in order.” Hank pulls him into a hug, gentle with the rose pinned to his lapel. When they separate, Hank is _very subtly_ wiping at his eyes. 

Connor smiles, “It’s okay to feel emotions, Lieutenant.”

“Listen here, you little shit.”

Laughter bursts from Connor, like a dam breaking. He feels stress seep out of his pores and finally allows himself to feel hopeful. Happy. Markus chose him, and Connor will make sure he does well by the man he’s about to marry. He picks up the little notecard with his vows on it and looks at Hank, 

“Time to go?”

“Yep. Markus is waiting at the altar.”

Hank holds his arm, maybe just as a way to ground himself, but Connor feels grateful for the gesture. Even though he’s confident in his equilibrium, he doesn’t trust his legs to hold him when he sees Markus. They near the courtyard and Connor hears the faint piano music. It’s not the typical wedding dirge they play, but a soft, sweet thing. It’s not registered to any artist and has no copyright.

He wonders if Markus wrote it.

Then they’re around the corner. The courtyard is packed with people, human and android. Almost the entire Detroit Police department is in attendance. But despite the smiling faces of the people he considers his friends and family. Despite the gorgeous flower arrangements and Alice waiting with the rings that will bind them together. Despite everything, Connor can only see Markus.

Markus’ smiling, tearful face. Looking perfect in his clean white suit. Gazing adoringly at Connor. 

It’s only by the grace of Hank’s hand on his arm that Connor moves forward. The walk down the aisle feels miles long. A blur of friendly faces and delicate decorations. Connor feels like the path before him stretches longer and longer the further he walks. Markus gets further and further away until he takes Connor’s hand.

Like clapping dirty shoes together, snapping a dusty rubber band, smacking a rug against a railing everything comes back into perfect clarity. He can’t help the grin that splits his face as the ceremony starts. 

He barely hears Simon start speaking, “Shakespeare wrote a lot, that’s an understatement.-” A smattering of laughter ripples through the gathered crowd, “-But the man knew his stuff. In the Pastoral Comedy, As You Like It, I feel one passage stands out from all the rest. Like it was written for Markus and Connor; ‘No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage’ so today, we witness two of the strongest men I know climbing those stairs.”

Markus takes the ring from Alice, smiling at her before returning his attention to Connor. He rubs his thumb over Connor’s hand, carefully sliding the ring into place, “Connor, you are my everything. You’re the first think I think about in the morning. When I’m away, I think only of returning to you. I believe everyone has someone, you just need to find them, so I’m damn lucky you were good at your job.”

Connor, who had been gradually tearing up, snorts in surprise. He covers his giggles with his free hand. When he gets his system back under control, Connor wipes away a stray tear as Markus continues, “In a world of uncertainties, of monsters disguised as men, and basic rights that call for war, you are my light. The guiding force, the soothing hand. You are the sun rising in the morning and the moon lighting my way home. You are the laughter that fills the room and the determination that moves me forward. As the first Android couple to be wed, we’re setting something of a standard. I considered using ‘in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.’ But that doesn’t quite work. Everything we do from now on, we do together.”

Connor turns to Alice, accepting the ring she offers, and turns back to Markus sliding the ring on his finger, “I’m not the best with words. You’re the artist, cearly. But I spent most of my life ready to die. I didn’t care. I didn't have anything to live for. You gave me something to live for. Markus, I will live for you.” 

Simon gently clears his throat, “Markus, do you take Connor to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

His voice is soft, “I do.”

“And Connor, do you take Markus?”

“Proudly, yes.”

“Seal it with a kiss, lover boys.”

Kissing Markus doesn’t get old. Connor never tires of the plush softness of his mouth, the easy way he can coax Markus’ mouth open, or the sounds Markus makes when Connor does something he likes. He never tires of feeling the warmth of the man beneath his hands, of touching the fabric of his clothing, or the easy perfection of his skin. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way Markus’ hands feel on his body. Warm gentle fingers pulling him closer, dull nails scratching through his hair.

The kiss doesn’t last as long as Connor wants it to, but Markus has more restraint. He pulls back before they can scandalize their guests and gives Connor the sweetest smile. It nearly brings him to his knees.

“I love you, Connor.”

He grins, “I know.”

They share a moment together, Connor with his cheeky grin, and Markus looking entirely enraptured, before North bounds over, throwing her arms around the two,

“Enough sap! Time to party!!”

Her interruption prompts the entire room to erupt into applause and laughter, everyone standing from their seats to migrate inside. It also gives the newlyweds time to breathe. Connor looks out across the venue’s pond, quietly admiring the scene before turning back to Markus.

His husband.

Connor steps back slightly, “You truly are beautiful, Markus. White suits you.”

“We make a stunning pair, then.”

Connor beams at him, “We’re married.” his voice cracks and he covers his face, feeling tears, _and damn those tears_ , slip down his cheeks. 

Markus pulls him in, holding him close, “I couldn’t be happier.”

Connor looks up at him, feeling a little better seeing Markus is also crying, and stands on his toes, closing the distance between them and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. It’s chaste, just enjoying the contact and peace.

Connor is the first to pull away, “Time to continue on?”

The reception is a blur. Despite Connor being able to freeze time and analyze details, he gets overwhelmed. In good ways, of course. Hank’s speech makes him cry again, North’s speech makes him laugh, Carl’s speech makes Markus cry. The food is spectacular, and cutting the cake is easy, if not entirely too nerve wracking.

After food is done and people are lounging with their drinks, Connor can’t hold in his anxiety any more. He quietly excuses himself from the table and wanders through the immaculate venue. These people are here for him. Well, him and Markus. And still there’s a part of him that doubts. Waits for the other shoe. Expects something terrible to happen because surely he’s not allowed this happiness.

He stops when he reaches a balcony. The photographer had the couple staged around it. He steps out, alone this time, and leans against the rail and stares out into the night. This venue is far enough from Detroit that the lights and sounds don’t puncture the night air. The stars are clear and reflect off the pond.

Connor just breathes. Away from the heat and excitement and expectations of the reception, he allows himself to just be.

He wishes Markus had joined him.

Connor frowns, turning his head slightly upon hearing approaching footsteps. Somehow the man always knows when he’s needed.

Strong arms coil around his midsection and Markus peppers soft kisses across the back of his neck and behind his ear, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just got overwhelmed. It’s a lot.”

He feels Markus sigh against his neck, “Honestly? I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’m so happy, and I’ve had fun, but I’m ready to start my life with you.”

“Speaking of…” Connor turns in his grip, settling his hands on Markus’ arms, “Have you thought about where we’re moving to?”

“We have-.”

Connor frowns, “We live in the church, Markus. I want a home, outside Jericho borders. We talked about this…”

Markus is quick to kiss the pout away, “I know, I know. A house or an apartment?”

“I’d prefer a house, but my income is only-”

Markus shushes him with a kiss again, “No, that’s something we talked about too, Con. You cannot be the only one providing.”

“You don’t have an income.”

“I have an inheritance.”

“Carl is still alive!” Connor lightly jostles the other man, fighting a smile.

“Yes, darling, and he wants to buy us a house.”

“It feels like we’re using him.”

“He’s your dad now too.” Markus gently takes Connor’s face in his hands, “Con, we’re family now. Hank, you, me, Carl.”

“And Leo.”

“We don’t talk about Leo.”

Connor laughs, leaning up to capture another kiss, “Thank you, Markus.”

“Through sickness and health and any unnamed virus.” He watches Connor for a few moments, “Feel up to returning?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go back.” Connor takes his hand and walks back to the reception area. When they return and sit down, a few people toss looks their way.

North leans over, “Everyone thinks you two went off to fuck.”

Markus looks mock offended, “Nonsense! I will only fuck my husband on the finest silk.”

Connor laughs into his champagne flute, causing (android safe) champagne to splash his face. His cheeks flush a bright blue and Markus turns to help wipe off the fizzy liquid, 

“Sorry, Connor.”

“Is that why we haven’t had sex?”

North guffaws and Markus looks both offended and amused. Connor gives him a sweet smile and stands, "May I have this dance, dear husband?"

"That's my line." Markus takes his hand and they approach the center of the room as the music starts up.

A simple, sweet piano piece floats from the speakers. Markus made mention of a fully choreographed dance, but they both decided against it. The night had a lot of stress riding on them, so they opted for a simple waltz. 

When the dance ends, the guests all rush to join them, each demanding turns with the grooms. One dance blurs into ten, which blur into fifty, and soon they're playing ridiculous (and remarkably inappropriate) wedding games. 

Connor breaks away to get a drink, earning a grin from the human bartender, "Lively crowd."

He leans against the bar with a tired smile, "Most don't need to sleep."

"Don't you eventually run out of charge or something? Sorry if that's rude…" a dark blush stains his cheeks and Connor waves a hand,

"It's a fair question. While it's possible to run out of charge, so to speak, it's not quite so simple or common. We do sleep, though.” 

The bartender nods and hands Connor a drink, “Cheers to your new marriage. May it outlast the hardships of life.”

Surprised, and touched, Connor takes the glass, “Thank you.” 

Connor moves away from the bar, smiling absently into his drink. He feels Markus’ arms coil around his waist.

“Your drink pay you a compliment?”

“Of course not... Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, I’m tired though.”

“I don’t really know wedding etiquette, but I’m sure we could escape unscathed.” He turns his head, raising his eyebrows at Markus.

“To sleep?”

“As much as I definitely want you, yes. I think we are both too tired to actually be even remotely successful in the bedroom.”

Markus presses a kiss to Connor’s temple, “Good. Besides, I’m fairly certain the sheets here aren’t made of silk.”


	5. Silk Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEXY TIIIIMES!!! Listen. I don't love writing smut. But I tried. With a crap ton of help from MoonlightPastime (Also, credit to Delivery (from Strife) for the talk about it not being fair - I took it with Moon's permission.) and Neon. They worked through my silly rambles and assured me the sex is at least moderately sexy.
> 
> Also, in reference to how much Connor can lift? The world record a human holds is over 6000 pounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I got a gross comment on this chapter earlier today (1/13)   
> I have removed the comment. 
> 
> Please, my friends. Constructive criticism 
> 
> I do so love comments, but not if they attack me

Connor carefully sets the refrigerator down in the space Markus indicates, smiling as the man starts hooking wires and tubes up to it. Officially, the fridge is the last large appliance they need to move. All other furniture is in the house and organized according to plan.

Connor turns back towards the front door, stopping short when he sees Hank’s incredulous expression,

“Lieutenant?”

“Con, you just moved a fridge on your own.”

“My model has a lifting capacity of ten thousand pounds.”

“Why?!”

Markus wraps his arms around Connor and presses a kiss to his cheek, “So he can carry the entire world on his shoulders.”

Connor pouts as Hank and Markus laugh, “Yeah, haha, very funny. Coming from the Android who carried the entire revolution single handedly, hmm?”

“I had support!”

“Markus.”

They stare at each other, eventually reaching a silent agreement and sealing their truce with a kiss. Connor moves from the hug and towards the door, “What else needs to be brought in? I know all the heavy stuff is put away…” 

For the next several hours, Connor, Hank, and Markus move the two androids in. Unsealing boxes, hanging clothing, and filling storage closets. Connor hands Hank a beer, a silent promise that they’re done, and the help was very appreciated.

“It almost looks like a real home.”

Hank elbows Connor’s ribs, “It _is_ a real home, kid. You and Markus live here, it’s a home.”

Connor feels Markus’ hand slip into his, silently opening an interface between them. Connor frowns,

_”Markus, are you-”_

_“It wont be a proper home until we fuck on every surface available.”_

Connor’s eyes go wide and he turns to gawk at Markus, smirking beside him, “You promised me silk, dear husband.”

Markus cackles into the open space of their kitchen, prompting Hank to stare at them, “Whatever android mojo you’re tossin around, I don’t want it. I’m guessing it’s got something to do with christening the house, so I’m leaving. See you two later.” He tosses his half finished beer out and leaves in his rumbling car.

Connor waits, still as can be, until Hank’s GPS signal is a good mile away from the house before turning to smile sweetly at Markus, “Poor Hank.”

“I still can’t believe Mr.Kamski called you a sex toy.”

Connor rolls his eyes and walks into the living room, looking around. He hears Markus follow him. Their new home is modest, but new. Markus immediately fell in love with the house due to the layout similarities between this house and Carl’s. 

“Still feels empty to me.”

Markus hugs him, looking around their mostly empty living room, “Because it is, darling. We need to collect things.”

“Like a wall of books. A piano, and paints, and-”

“You love Carl’s house as much as I do, don’t you?”

“And some jazz vinyls.”

Connor smiles up at Markus and the latter leans down for a kiss, murmuring into Connor’s mouth, “Give it time.”

Connor lets himself get lost in the kiss. Reasonably speaking, Markus doesn’t smell like anything. He smells like their laundry detergent, like the soap he uses, like the tiny spritz of cologne that he uses after a shower. All together, he smells like home. Connor lets that scent intoxicate him, he lets the slide of their tongues pull at the intricate wires of his body, he lets the warm slide of Markus’ hands stir feelings he’s never had before.

It gets a little overwhelming. The draw of the wires, taught through his body and an insistent ache near his core. He pulls away with a tiny gasp, knows by the way Markus looks at him that they’re both feeling the update to their software.

“Connor?”

“Please.”

Their bedroom is on the top level of the house, and Markus promised him silk sheets, so Connor grabs his hand and pulls him up the steps, pausing every few to plant a heated kiss on his lips. They reach the top of the stairs and Connor can’t resist anymore, he presses himself against Markus’ lithe body and kisses from his mouth, to his jaw, down his neck. He relishes the small noises Markus makes, little grunts and growls and breathy pants. But the other man seems slightly more impatient, practically carrying Connor to the bedroom.

Connor lets himself be maneuvered, quietly thrilling when Markus lifts him off the ground to lay him on the bed. Connor feels his mouth go dry and a tight ball of desire coil taught as Markus positions himself between Connor’s legs, leaning over him and pinning his arms to the bed above his head.

Connor blinks as a system prompt flashes in his hud.

**Enable Intimacy Protocol?**

**Y/N**

Connor enables it, and gasps at the sudden flood of feeling he gets. Without fully meaning to, he grips Markus’ hand and throws open an interface. Connor receives no answering data, just a surge of molten desire through his veins. His system activates his lubrication protocol, but in doing that, Connor is somehow even more sensitive.

Markus shifts above him, likely trying to figure out why Connor’s system is overwhelmed, and brushes his thigh against his crotch. Connor jolts, arching his back off the bed, lifting his hips to seek out the source of the pressure, whimpering when Markus presses a firm hand to his hip and pushes him back down on the bed.

Connor feels something wiggling about in his mind, and it seems to be reducing his sensitivity. Some strange, primal part of his system immediately tries kicking it out, also trying to close the interface. Connor gets his hand away from Markus, only to have the man grip his wrist with even more strength and open the interface again. As the sensitivity goes down, so too does the primal urge.

Connor is left shaking, near enough to climax to throw his higher function into disarray. He stares up at Markus’ beautiful heterochromatic eyes, “What…?”

“Your sensitivity was turned too high. Did you not play with the update when you got home?” he sounds teasing

Connor blushes, “I… no? I’m sorry.”

A series of emotions pass over Markus’ face, too fast for Connor to recognize, but the expression that sticks is that of pure want, “Nothing to be sorry for. Just means I get to witness your raw reactions.”

Markus stands fully, looking down at Connor as he starts stripping his own shirt, and murmurs lowly, “Oh this’ll be fun.”

Connor watches as Markus slowly reveals more. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he watches Markus' eyes track the movement. The knowledge of his own power over the man gives him a surge of pride. 

He decides he's tired of waiting. Connor sits up, hooking his fingers in Markus' belt loops and holding him in place. 

"May I try something?"

"Please…" Markus' voice is barely above a growl, only deepening as Connor deftly undoes his jeans, sinking to his knees and pushing them off. Now entirely naked, Connor lets his eyes roam. He works to memorize every freckle, every curve of muscle and synthetic tissue, the rise and fall of the masterpiece that is his husband. 

Then, Connor lets himself look at Markus' cock. Possibly his intimacy protocol, but the sight makes Connor's mouth water. Of course, it's perfect. A good length without being intimidating, and flawless curvature.

Connor activates the program he'd inherited from the Traci models and lowers his head, licking a slow wet stripe up the underside of Markus' cock, then swallowing him. He hears Markus let out a guttural moan, so he holds him in his mouth, just enjoying the weight and taste of him, swirling his tongue experimentally around the head. Markus curls his fingers in Connor's hair and tugs, pulling a whimper from him.

They both pause, then Connor looks up to make eye contact before pulling Markus to the back of his throat and swallowing. Markus' grip in his hair tightens and Connor's eyes flutter. The more Markus tugs on his hair, the more Connor's attention gets pulled to his own arousal.

Even the sight of Markus above him was enough to stir interest, but now, with the man's cock in his throat and fist in his hair, his own dick strains against his jeans.

Connor loses himself in the ebb and flow. Focusing on the feel of Markus in his throat. He makes a sound of surprise when Markus pulls him off, voice rough,

"Get back on the bed, Con. Gonna make you feel good too."

He scrambles to comply, spreading his legs shamelessly for Markus to stand between. But he doesn't. Instead, Markus picks at Connor's clothes, working unbearably slowly. 

When Connor tries to aid the removal, Markus grabs his wrists, "No, darling. Let me do this."

Connor obeys. It isn't a command, so much, but his cock twitches at the hint of one. He closes his eyes and feels the slow drag of his shirt being pulled off, the searing heat of Markus' hands trailing over his arms and torso, gently rubbing the bud of his nipple,

"Ahh~" Connor's body moves of its own volition, pushing his chest further into Markus' hands. He squirms as the other man continues his teasing, 

"And just think, we brought your sensitivity down…" 

Markus doesn’t let him respond, immediately returning to sucking and biting a path down his chest. His deft hands remove the rest of Connor’s clothing and he wraps a hand loosely around the detective’s cock.

Connor swears he short circuits, “M-Markus…”

“Connor.” 

Markus is waiting, the hand that was wrapped around him is resting on his thigh now. Connor lifts his hands and runs one hand delicately over Markus’ cheek, the other tours it’s way over his body, following a similar path Markus had taken prior.

Connor looks briefly between them, then feels a wicked grin split his face. Markus has no time to react before Connor presses their hips together and _grinds_. The foreign but delicious heat roars through Connor. He pulls Markus down for a deep kiss, swallowing the deep growl he lets out.

Connor feels Markus move up onto the bed, so he scoots back to make room. It should feel awkward and clumsy, but crawling away on his elbows and watching Markus prowl after him triggers _something_ deep within him. Like being hunted. Prey.

He sends that particular thought to a folder to be analyzed later. For now his focus is undeniably captured by Markus. He’s settled between Connor’s legs again. He lifts Connor’s ass onto his lap. Markus maneuvers Connor to his liking, leaving one leg splayed off to the side and bringing the other ankle over his shoulder. He trails his fingers down Connor’s thigh, making the smaller android twitch and hiss.

“Ticklish?”

“I don’t think so. Just new.”

Markus kisses Connor’s ankle, as his free hand wraps around his cock again. Connor loses all track of progress, focusing entirely on the slick firm stroke of Markus’ hand. 

His hips stutter as Markus gently presses a finger inside him. Markus’ eyes widen slightly and he draws his finger out. Connor knows why, feels some slick escape with the finger, he feels like he should be embarrassed, but all he wants is

“Markus, please - fuck - do that again…”

Connor releases a growl of his own when the hand on his cock slows, and Markus slides two fingers inside. Connor feels his limbs move of their own accord, his hands twist in the bedding and his hips writhe to entice Markus inside. A pressure has built up inside him, but despite growing significantly before, it remains level.

Markus’ endless damn patience is going to be the death of him.

“Markus, _please!_ ”

Markus presses his fingers against something inside Connor and it brings his world to a pinpoint. The tension within him snaps and he presses his head back into the bed. He feels something rip beneath his fingers and vaguely registers a sound. His body feels like it’s throbbing, an insistent pulsing as he rides the blissful press of Markus’ fingers inside him.

It feels like forever and not long enough, as Markus withdraws his hand. Connor’s breath comes as uneven gulps and he looks up at the other man,

“Wha-”

“You came, baby.”

“No shit.”

Markus laughs and shifts his weight, “Yeah. How’d it feel?”

Connor feels drunk, “Do it again….”

“I’m gonna let you come down a little before I start again.”

Connor tries to sit up, frowning when he realizes Markus is holding him rather firmly in his lap. He does spot the other man’s cock though, “What about you?”

“I get pleasure from watching you, darling.”

“Fuck off, that’s not how it works.”

Markus smiles sweetly, “But it is.”

“That’s not fair.”

“This isn’t about fair. We aren’t servicing each other to reach an end, this is one of those occasions that you’d say, ‘It’s not about the destination, but the journey’.”

Connor lays back, feeling entirely boneless, like his body is a very comfortable dead weight. He closes his eyes and whines when Markus moves away.

“I’m not going far.”

Connor’s legs are nudged apart again, making room for the other man. His eyes fly open as warm wet heat envelops his cock. He lifts his hips slightly again, prompting Markus to slip his fingers inside Connor again, easily finding the little spot that sends sparks up Connor’s spine and makes his visual sensors malfunction.

Connor lets out a pitched moan as Markus swallows around him, and reaches down blindly to pull him off, “Markus, wait… K-keep doing that and I’ll come again…” 

“That was kinda the point.”

“Want you inside me.”

Markus’ breath hitches and Connor feels him move back up his body. He opens his eyes to smile into the languid kiss Markus presses to his lips, then gasps into his mouth as Markus presses inside his already loosened hole.

“Ff- hah.. Oh fuck….” Connor coils his arms around Markus’ neck. He shudders and the wire of tension inside him threatens to snap. The minor pain from the stretch is new, but entirely welcome. As Markus gets fully seated, his cock brushes against the sensitive pressure plate inside Connor, making his nerves feel like live wire,

“Mah-Markus, wait…”

Markus immediately stops moving. He looks at Connor, concern pulling his brows together, “Did I hurt you? Con, hold on.”

As Markus starts to pull out, Connor makes a strangled noise of protest and wraps his legs tightly around the other’s hips,

“No! I’m not hurt, please don’t….”

“Connor, what’s wrong?”

“It was just new, I needed to adjust.” 

Connor reaches out, skin pulling away from his hand and Markus accepts the interface. The other man gasps at the surge of feeling flowing through, and Connor feels his dick twitch inside him. As ever, an interface is a two way connection and Connor’s back arches off the bed at the sudden delicious heat surrounding his cock. He moans as he clenches around Markus, feeling him press against _that spot_ again and writhing as the pressure increases around his own cock. Connor tries to pull his hand away, but Markus simply presses it to the bed,

“I want to feel your pleasure.”

Connor looks up into Markus’ eyes and nods. He feels pleasured tears spring to his eyes as Markus pulls out, then thrusts back in again, nailing the pseudo-prostate on every thrust. Connor presses one foot to the bed and uses it as leverage to grind his hips down on Markus’ cock every time he fully seats himself.

They only manage this dance for a few moments longer before Connor can barely move for the tension within him. His breath puffs out of him in uneven gushes and his legs shudder. He opens his mouth to say something, but his voice module doesn’t work. He quickly blinks away error messages and tightens his grip on Markus’ hand as the other picks up his pace.

The snap of the tension hits Connor both from his own body and through the interface, arching his body like he’s been electrocuted and pulsing through him in waves of blinding pleasure. He hears himself let out a staticky cry as the pleasure just keeps coming. His own mixed with Markus has them locked in a stasis of bliss and only when Connor manages to move their hands apart, do they start coming down.

Markus oh so gently pulls out, looking at Connor with unfocused eyes, “Okay?”

Connor snorts, and tries to speak, frowning when a new error pops up. He quickly resets his voice module and tries again, “You know exactly how ‘okay’ I thought that was.”

“Ah, sass. Glad you’re still with me.” Markus lays down next to Connor with a groan, “Are you getting errors too?”

Connor grunts his agreement, smiling as Markus rolls onto his side and coils his arms around Connor’s body. Connor simply holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head, “We probably need to run full diagnostics.”

“Good, because I’m tired.”

Connor laughs softly and watches the ceiling, basking in the boneless peace of Markus. Almost five minutes of stillness passes when Markus stirs slightly, shifting his weight closer to Connor’s body.

Connor bites his lip. Despite how truly exhausted he is, he can’t seem to drift off. He could force himself to, but he rather enjoys letting it happen naturally. As it is, he lets his mind wander. Their ‘coupling’, Connor cringes at the word and backtracks. Their experience was extraordinary. Far past what he’s researched, past even what the Traci’s would ever experience. It was crippling in its bliss. For two advanced androids to be exhausted after, Connor wonders if this is common for all android couples. The problem is, many androids don’t have functioning genitalia, while they have the update. He wonders if it works the same way, or similar. If the update activates a sort of pressure plate, much like the one inside himself, and if so, do they experience such a colossal high with their partners as he and Markus did.

His brows draw together. He would ask, but most androids avoid him, the ones that don’t would probably still balk at being asked such a personal question. With deviancy comes embarrassment and the need for privacy. Maybe he should ask Mr. Kamski. 

He feels Markus stir again and looks down at him. He’s surprised to see him awake, squinting up at Connor,

“I’m sorry, Markus. Did I wake you?”

“No. You’re thinking too hard, what’s wrong?”

Connor smiles, “Nothing is wrong. Just my inquisitive nature.”

Much to Connor’s disappointment, Markus sits up, rubbing his eyes, “Tell me about it?”

“Well…” He takes a moment to appreciate Markus. Admiring his strong back, the adorable pout when he doesn’t get his way or is trying to get information out of someone he’s close to, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looks so human.

“Con?”

“Right. We are two of the most advanced androids, and somehow we’re both entirely exhausted after…” Connor hesitates, what does he call it? Sex? Fucking? Coupling? He shudders again, that word makes him feel slimy.

Markus nods for him to continue, and Connor smiles appreciatively, “Do other androids have such an intense experience?”

“Most androids need to focus very intently to interface.”

"So, our ability to interface so easily…?"

"Uncommon. Likely because we're both RK models."

"I guess I can see that. Chloe said we are the only models that can deviate other androids."

Markus nods, running his left hand over Connor's chest, "That's probably why we interface so well."

Connor watches him for a few moments, then grabs his wrist, holding his hand out to examine. Long slim fingers, flawless fingernails, and a beautiful gold band. Despite Markus already having given Connor a ring, they’d both decided to get matching gold for their wedding bands.

“Markus…” Connor’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Connor looks over at him, smiling, “We’re married.”

“Nothing quite so sexy as seeing my husband in nothing but his wedding ring, all strewn about on our silk sheets…” Markus’ eyes drift down Connor’s body, pausing near his hips, “Con…”

“Y-yeah?”

“Did… did you _rip_ the sheets?”

Connor’s mouth opens and closes multiple times before he just offers a sheepish grin, “Love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor watches Hank sort and re-sort their evidence for the fifth time and huffs a sigh, perking slightly when he gets an email _strange_ from Markus. He opens it and bursts into laughter, attempting to disguise it as coughing.
> 
> _Darling, I've compiled a checklist of surfaces to fuck on. So far we have only ticked one box. I expect higher performance from you. The file is attached._
> 
> _Love, Markus_
> 
> ((Comments renew my will to live. Lemme know your thoughts! ♡))


End file.
